In particular, Roman history. There are catacombs and ruins all over Pafos, some in the grounds of hotels, others just off main streets of the town. The picture I have here is of the Asklepieion - what I tend to think of as the theatre. The lighthouse is some distance behind it, though it appears to overlook it here. We went and sat on the terraces, and did what everyone does - tested the acoustics. They work, of course.
Friday 30 November 2007
Golf balls
In particular, Roman history. There are catacombs and ruins all over Pafos, some in the grounds of hotels, others just off main streets of the town. The picture I have here is of the Asklepieion - what I tend to think of as the theatre. The lighthouse is some distance behind it, though it appears to overlook it here. We went and sat on the terraces, and did what everyone does - tested the acoustics. They work, of course.
Thursday 29 November 2007
An award!
Wednesday 28 November 2007
Brrr it's cold!
We missed the three days of storms and had a glorious week of temperatures around 24 degrees. To be honest, the night we arrived was full of thunder, lightning and torrential rain and we wondered if we'd done the right thing in arriving so late in the season.
Next day however, the sun chased the clouds away out over the Med and from then on it got steadily warmer and brighter. We hired a car on Wednesday and toured down the west coast to Limassol, stopping off at Aphrodite's Birthplace on the way. The white cliffs and the turquoise sea are stunning on a sunny day.
From Limassol we toured up into the Troodos mountains hoping we could find Kykko Monastery, reputed the be the richest in Cyprus, and where Archbishop Makarios is buried. We did, and found the place strangely oppressive. More on that tomorrow, when I dig the pics out. We crossed over the hump on the way, driving into and out of the snow line and goggling at the weird golf balls perched all over hilltops in Cyprus. Huge golf balls, with notices declaring that photography is not allowed, and, of course, absolutely no information as to what they might be doing there. They reminded me of the early warning stations on Fylingdales Moor way back in the sixties.
We then promptly got lost on the back roads heading home to Paphos. We should have had a jeep, for the 15 miles of dirt roads roared up and down hillsides, careered to the edge of sheer drops and of course the storms had cut deep gulleyes and channels where rainwater had taken the fall line down the mountain. DH, who has more knowledge of cars than yours truly, moaned and cringed and prayed that we wouldn't get a puncture, knock the sump off or otherwise damage the car. Anxiety spoilt his view of the wonderful pine forests with sun shining through the trunks...and the views across endless mountain ranges. I offered to get out and remove fallen rocks from our path, and had my hand on the door handle when I realised that I couldn't step out unless I wanted to drop about fifty feet to the stream below. "Oh, well, I can't get out here," I said, mistress of cool. DH ground his teeth and failed to respond.
Monday 19 November 2007
Cyprus
However, it won't be all fun and games. I've printed out the first two pages of the wip, and I'm packing those, a notebook and a pen. I should make some progress with the rest of chapter one before I get back, and I'm taking Georgiana D of D and Pride and Prejudice with me as reading material. How's that for dedication?
Only a week this time. I've been to Paphos once before, but it was a long time ago and it will be interesting to see how much the place has changed. The downside is I shall have to get up very early, and I shall miss Cranford part 2, and Strictly Come Dancing! I'm not daft enough to phone in and vote on SCD, but I do like watching the amazing, intricate things they do. The energy levels of the professional dancers are amazing. I guess they must have fast twitch muscles to be able to do all they do.
Saturday 17 November 2007
A new beginning
Started reading about the Duchess of Devonshire today.
I guess I've also started the ball rolling on the next epic. I roughed out a plan yesterday and filled in some detail today - checking for names appropriate to the time period, adding motivation where it needs to go, thinking out the relative back stories of the two protagonists and what the main bone of contention between them is going to be. I think my critique partner would say that was the most important thing of all! She's most concerned that my stories have a Spine.
The Regency is not a period I've studied, so on Lynne Connolly's recommendation I've ordered The Reign of George III by Steven Watson from an online book supplier. I remember those pale blue covers with the dull red border from my days in libraries - a whole sequence of thick books covering every time period from 400AD right up to the present day. Now I want one, of course, they're out of fashion and rarer than hen's teeth in my local libraries, hence the online purchase.
I'm planning a re-read of Pride and Prejudice, and I've got the dvd too, so I can have hours of fun doing research. This time I'll read all the footnotes! I'm happy to say that dh finally got hooked into P&P the last time I watched it. Yesterday I watched the Making of P&P yesterday and one of the examples was where Lady Catherine comes to tell Elizabeth she can't marry Darcy and complains about the windows being "full west"... dh enters the room, watches, smiles, turns to me and says "We'll have to watch it again." Success!
Friday 16 November 2007
Money
Last year they raised 33million for children. This year they want to better that figure. On the Terry Wogan Show Radio 2 (yes, I still listen!) listeners were phoning in and almost throwing money into the pot. One tempting offer was to attend the British Grand Prix, meet the driver of your choice, meet the team, see the workshops, sit in the car, all the sort of stuff petrolheads adore, champagne lunch - the bidding went to £100,000. Gulp.
Two 6-course meals at the Sharrow Bay Hotel on Windermere plus a trip on the lake and a big Audi to drive - I think that went for £30,000.
Have lunch with Terry Wogan and Roger Moore - you've got to be olver fifty to know who they are! The last I hear that was £70,000.
Now I feel cosily secluded from the madness. The closest it encroaches is the Pudsey van parked right across the street from my home. No doubt Paul will be out in the cold with the BBC tonight while I stay warm inside and watch it on tv.
At the College, Children in Need seemed to be an excuse for the students to dress up, wear something outrageous and almost illegally sexy, to barge into classrooms, workrooms and libraries yelling and falling over with laughter - and waving buckets into which everyone was supposed to throw money.
The first time it happened was a surprise, and welcomed with good humour - but the 31st time it happened the old patience did a u-turn and flew out of the window. And it happened every year, without fail. For the students, it was new and exciting, but for the staff - the phrase sitting ducks comes to mind. OK, I'm an old Scrooge...but am I alone in noticing how often these days we're asked to donate for this cause or that, sponsor this run or that walk, attend this party but pay for the priviledge as the money's going overseas?
I'll let all these go by and just keep quietly donating twice a year to the RSPCA and Dogs Trust.
And admiring the Pudsey van.
Thursday 15 November 2007
Celebrate
According to the press release issued by Siren Publishing, they intend to immediately release all these contracts back to the authors, no strings attached, as a publicity stunt to give them exposure. They deserve all the publicity they can get for this generous act.
I have to admit I don't know Siren, so I'm on my way over there to have a look right now. This is the url -
http://www.sirenpublishing.com/
A good day for an auction
Today is auction day for the Triskelion author contracts. A strange business, but one I hope will soon be over. Evidently more e-publishers have closed in the last couple of weeks and I have to admit I'm wary of going the e-route again. Two closures out of two e-publishers does not exactly inspire me with confidence to go for a third.
I'm mulling over my next direction, writing-wise, and fell across Streatlam Castle. Not literally, of course. Built in 1718 on the site of a fifteenth century castle, it was demolished in 1927, and then, incredibly, blown up by the Territorial Army as an exercise in 1959. Hard to believe that it was allowed to happen, even if it was a ruin by then. When I found it was only 3 miles from Barnard Castle, I must have driven by Streatlam Park countless times and never realised a beautiful castle once stood there. Ah, England! It's a funny old place. I'd like to show a picture, but I think I would be breaking copyright if I did. Sorry.
Tuesday 13 November 2007
Tynemouth
Prowled round the outlet centre at Royal Quays, then down to the Fish Quay at North Shields for fish and chips at Kristian's - scrumptious, eaten in the open air, watching the boats on the river.
Then on to Tynemouth and a walk along the sands. It was a gorgeous sunny day, but cold. The air was crisp and clear and the waves rolling in were high and spumy. Half a dozen brave souls were surfing. We watched the waves topping the breakwater at Tynemouth and crashing over it until we got too cold, and then walked on.
Finally, to the Metrocentre, where I bought a new coat. All in all, a good day. We didn't take the camera, though, so no pics.
Sunday 11 November 2007
I first got hold of it because I wanted to check when candles gave way to gas light and gas light gave way to electricity. I found the answers I wanted, but got totally sidetracked along the way with everything else. Fascinating details. I’ve ordered a copy from play.com – the site advertises “no delivery charges” and await its arrival with interest.
Amazon charge £6.99 against play.com at £7.49 – but then Amazon has a standard delivery charge which last time I checked was more than 50 pence! Also, the last time I used Amazon I had to wait ages and ages for delivery. I hate waiting - for anything! I avoid queues, would rather go without than wait in a queue.
Friday 9 November 2007
Back to normal routine
Tuesday 6 November 2007
I’m not known among my circle of friends as a food critic, but I find eating in France interesting.
I hate their habit of not eating until 7pm at the earliest, by which time I’m usually ready to take a chunk out of the table, and of allowing cats to sit on white table cloths whilst you eat. (My dh chased it, upon which it looked outraged, gave him a filthy look and prowled off to find a more amiable patron.)
I like their habit of eating outside in the sunshine, of taking time over a meal and rarely, if ever, pressuring a customer to move on and free a table for the next customer. I also love (most of) their crème brûlees. I think of possibly 80, only two have been less than good.
It isn’t that I think their chefs are better than English chefs though they do seem to have more of the good ones than we do. But we’re getting there. French customers seem to have higher expectations than we do, and they are not slow to make their views known.
Their produce does seem to be fresher than ours. Walnuts fell off the trees at our door while we were there, and I collected a huge amount and laid them out on the bolly floor to dry, in a a big flat circle. Almost every night something nudged and rolled those walnuts along the floor, while we were asleep just on the other side of the wall, wondering what was out there.
Bananas came from the Ivory coast, not Costa Rica.
Bergerac is not a huge town. It sits on the Dordogne, not far from the sea, and French rivers provide fresh water fish. Pike is always on the menu, as well as bigger, fatter sardines than we usually see here. LeClerc’s beautifully arranged fish counter is four and five times the size of the counter in my local Tesco, and yet we have the bigger population and are supposed to be a nation of fish eaters. Perhaps we are just a nation of haddock, chip and cod eaters. Mind you, I don’t think I want to go as far as having a tank with live crabs in it just waiting to be selected…
The meat counters boast cuts of meat we never see in my supermarket. Rabbits are always on sale, and boar and duck, with pates and sausages of every variety. My mouth is watering just thinking about it, and do you know, I can remember the different smells of the meat and fruit counters – then there are the bread counters and the patisseries – expensive, but to die for and only to be sampled now and again.
I think it is time for lunch…I’ve talked myself into it.
Friday 2 November 2007
Bordeaux
We hadn’t looked it up in any guide books, so we knew little about it. We got some idea of its size on the motorway approach and began to quake about driving into the capital of Aquitaine. Then we remembered that the French are very good at directions for Centre Ville and providing huge underground car parks for when you get there, and relaxed a little.
The river is huge. It makes the Tyne look like a brook, and at the end of the bridge, the road led up the hill through towering old buildings. Um, we said, looking around. This is nice. We went with the traffic flow through a huge archway that made me think of Aosta’s Roman remains, avoided the road works, missed the first car park sign and caught the second but missed the entrance.
Round the square we went once more, spotted the entrance and dived into it. No time for mistakes here, or the traffic will be upon you, horns blaring. Down we went, found a spot and then we had the afternoon to enjoy Bordeaux. Bill got very brave and asked directions of a passing Bordelais. “Centre Ville?” The man looked puzzled, as well he might. I pretended I was finding something in my purse. Haltingly came an explanation. I could tell by Bill’s slight widening of the eyes that he’d followed the first couple of sentences, but as the French speeded up with the man’s enthusiasm, all was lost. He thanked him profusely in French, and backed away.
We headed, as directed, into the Place Pey-Berland, and gazed open-mouthed at the Cathédrale Saint-André de Bordeaux. We’re not unused to cathedrals in the UK, but this one was huge and sat plonk in the middle of a large square surrounded by restaurants. We marched into Le Café Francais and opted for service en terrasse, face a la cathedrale. We ate the day’s special offering: pieces of different varieties of fish with garlic lemon-butter sauce, chestnut flavoured potatoes and a vegetable. I scoffed the lot, and had to be restrained from licking the plate.
Inside the cathedral I was struck by the huge musty darkness of one end and the light, brightness of the other. It was like two churches joined together in the middle. They say the foundations reveal (or hide, depending on your point of view) Roman walls. Pope Urban II consecrated the building in 1096 and it is now a monuent of France. The Royal Gate is from the early 13th century, while the rest of the construction is mostly from the 14th-15th centuries. 15 year old Eleanor of Aquitaine married Louis VII here in 1137, a few months before he became king.
I know a bit about Eleanor. In my mind, she always looks like Katherine Hepburn. (Amazing what a film like The Lion in Winter can do.) After Louis repudiated her, Eleanor of Aquitaine married the French-speaking Count Henri Plantagenet in 1152. He was born in Le Mans. Within months of their wedding, Henry became King of England. Lucky Eleanor. Two out of two. The French called her Alienor, and her dowry, when she married Louis, consisted of the Guyenne, Gascogne, Poitou, Limousin, and Perigord regions. That’s a hell of a dowry. It must be almost a third of France.
For three centuries afterwards, Bordeaux was ruled by England, and the city flourished, primarily due to wine trade. I was so impressed I bought a guide book, intending to read and find out more with another visit, possibly a long weekend, in mind. I was amused to find these opening lines: “Bordeaux began with water which seeped into its name and continues to saturate it. And the truth is, it’s still flowing…” Pierre Veilletet, Bords d’eaux.
The Place des Quinconces is said to be Europe's largest municipal square. It may well be so, but now ultra-modern trams use it as a terminus, and a permanent sort of fairground occupies a good deal of it. The smell of popcorn and candy floss made my stomach heave but what had caught my eye was the Monument aux Girondins. I could hardly miss it. I had seen it from way down the Crs de 30 Juillet - a huge white fountain adorned with a 43 meter high column topped with a statue of "Liberty breaking its chains".
I wandered around in amazement. It was built, according to the guidebook, “in honour of the influential local deputies to the 1789 Revolutionary Assembly, later purged by Robespierre as moderates and counter-revolutionaries. During World War II, in a fit of anti-French spite, the occupying Germans made plans to melt the monument down, only to be foiled by the local Resistance, who got there first and, under cover of darkness, dismantled it piece by piece and hid it in a barn in the Medoc for the duration of the war.”
This cheeky maiden peering around the corner was just one statue at one corner and there were four corners. Each statue was totally different, and there were another four corners on the second story, so to speak.
Thursday 1 November 2007
Autumn in France
To my shame...
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