Think about the result of your actions

 

From my office window on the third floor!

Photo copyright SvD.

Our crazy world

This year has certainly been the most surreal I can remember. On 16 March, the Notaire where I was working as a clerk, packed up boxes of files and we all left the building not knowing when we would be back. The night before, President Macron had told us live on TV that from the next day, we were to 'stay at home'. He wasn't asking politely.

For several weeks I was able to leave the house only to walk the dogs within a small radius around the house, go to the nearest supermarket and that was it. The road where I live was unusually quiet, there was no one anywhere to be seen.

The disease remains an enigma and untamed. We now all wear masks although at work I conveniently rip mine off when I'm in my private office. My colleagues all do the same.

The most insidious part of this plague is how we are beginning to treat each other. A whiff of suspicion now pervades the air. The French, normally so tactile and full of compliments, have become stone cold. The problem of course is the mask which conceals almost all of the face. Impossible to tell is someone is smiling or snarling. Harassed and worried about catching a deadly virus, no one wants to spend time with anyone. Forget socialising or going out for a meal. It feels wrong and uncomfortable to be too near or within spitting distance of someone who could send you into a deadly coma. As a keen and competent cook I prefer to stay at home. I can control the hygiene in my kitchen and that suits me better. 

My little dogs don't see any difference to their routine and like this cat near my office, spend most of their time fast asleep.

However we homo sapiens tend to be conscious enough during our daylight hours to worry about the state of the world. US politics? Scream!! The state of the economy? Bigger scream!! The absurd political correctness we are being made to follow? Scream again! Virtue signalling celebrities with approximately one brain cell each who want to tell us what to do and think? More screaming!! I totally despair at the world today and am frankly amazed that anyone would want to bring children into this insane and extremely dangerous farcical environment. In a future not that far away, we will have no record of our history visible on the streets - no statues, no monuments and no memorials - lest they offend someone. We will be forcibly injected with a vaccine for the virus. There will be mass unemployment. Mental health, all the rage now, will become the next biggest disease as thousands if not millions find themselves not only unemployed but unemployable. Business will change forever: how they trade, how they provide services, where they are located. Many businesses are literally doomed except those which offer essential services. The local hairdresser has better job prospects than most!

During the lockdown here if France, online sales took off like a rocket. The French, normally sniffy about the internet, suddenly realised its one great attraction - no human physical human contact so little chance of catching COVID and pure convenience.  Let's just ponder on those two:

No human physical contact: when I was a student in Bordeaux, the local postman used to bring letters from my dad up to my flat and stop in for a coffee and a cigarette. The postman used to help me out by slipping letters under my door if I wasn't in instead of putting them in the communal post box or signing for a recorded delivery so I didn't have to traipse all the way to the post office. Small gestures done out of kindness will most likely disappear. Tragically for us all, these gestures make us human.

Pure convenience: the ego will have well and truly landed when everything is done for personal convenience. 'I want and therefore I am' is already the new mantra. I'm in the middle of reading a book written by a Frenchman who was sent down into the mines at age 12. He never got to live 'his truth' but the strength of his character hewn from deprivation is awe inspiring. As a child he used to be mesmerised by the stars in the sky but as a miner he hardly got to see them. That state of mind to just get on with life has already been lost forever. Now we are all entitled to everything we want.

Is there anything to look forward to? Ironically the best things in life aren't physical objects but are inside our heads. Strength of character, courage, striving to become a better human being, understanding the difference between what we want and what is needed according to the requirements of the time. The question is, are you up for the challenge? And do you understand that the only person who can help you achieve those things is yourself? Good luck!

Photo copyright SvD.

Be careful what you wish for

The world we know has changed beyond recognition this year with the virus and its impact on the world economy. I've been here before when my successful career in London was so severely impacted by the financial crash that I had to reinvent myself in order to survive. In the darkest days, the last thing on my mind would have been rushing to share my plight on social media or posing half naked on Instagram. Who does that and why? Why is the approbation of complete strangers a necessity? How does that make an individual self aware? 

My faith provided solace when confronted with challenges that I found too difficult to surmount on my own. Faith, along with age and experience, helped me discover a well of inner strength. I understand that a positive outlook and mental self sufficiency mean that bad experiences can't tear me down. A strong, independent mind is the antidote to having my ego massaged. I would literally be too embarassed to consider the 'like' button the gauge of whether I have credibility as a  person. I couldn't care less because social media doesn't define me.

For years I actively engaged on Twitter until I found it a mouthpiece for the vapid Left who have more rights than duty to anyone. I occasionally open the Twitter app on my 'phone but I don't quite see the point of mouthing off about anything because as the French say, the more it changes, the more it remains the same. In other words, idiots will remain idiots with idiotic notions and the new vogue is self indulgent political correctness otherwise known as righteous indignation.

Unwittingly, social media 'influencers' have sold their soul to the highest bidder. If you have integrity, oodles of self respect and know yourself, the thought of massive popularity is as hollow as a spent bullet. Life is about relationships, not necessarily romantic but how we interact with each other. Just look at the popular social influencers, do they have successful relationships? No, they've objectified themselves completely and will hardly with the Nobel peace prize for trying to make the world a better place. None of their endeavours is aimed at encouraging others to become better human beings.  The glossy veneer of an  'influencer' conceals the darkness of their own gross insecurity and inadequacy. The façade is a means of controlling the narrative (oh, yes, this new expression, smacks of complete desperation). How exhausting must it be to feast off neediness, the oxygen in their veins! Try having an intellectual conversation about the meaning life with a social influencer and they'll offer up some regurgitated gobbledygook about 'living your truth' (translated this means absolve yourself of all responsibility and be ruthless in every aspect of your life).

Let's look at it another way. Where's the intellectual argument in #BLACK LIVES MATTER? Or #METOO? #WHITEPRIVILEGE? Surprise, surprise, there isn't one. All three movements are about a stomping of feet, a disingenuous moaning based on the next bandwagon. Sooner or later the bandwagon, a temporary means of self promotion, becomes a slow boat to nowhere. #Feminism, for example, gave women emancipation by casting off the stereotypes but the reverse meant that most men now expect women to be financially independent. Women have been left wondering what they need a man for? And the average bloke is totally emasculated, his balls would be literally ripped off if he asked a female to go back to his place to 'look at his DVD collection'. No wonder that the new rage of #Trans is actually a melding of the male into the female and vice versa because the stereotypes have been shattered. 

We, in the West have never had it so good, like the spoilt child with too many toys he never knows which one to choose. So he starts wailing and stomping his feet. Sound familiar?

Photo copyright SvD.

When wildlife is far more interesting than homo sapiens

Sometimes going for a walk is more inspiring than reading the news. The animal kingdom is full of wonder and I'm grateful to be filled with awe when for example, I come across this little fella in his armoury crossing the road as if he has all the time in the world:

Or this little guy who has taken up residence with his mates/family on my terrace. Watching him catch flies is sort of miraculous:

Much more interesting than politics, celebrities, #LeftWingLunatics, don't you think?

Both of these creatures carries on about their business without fanfare or calling the paparazzi. They just are. A lesson to us all perhaps?

Photos copyright SvD.

Watching a bee hop around is great therapy

My lifestyle is pretty frenetic running here and there, fielding calls from clients, sorting out problems with Notaires and agents, rushing off on viewings, plus I have a home life too. Dogs, a partner, a house to maintain. I do feel at times that my head is literally spinning. Sometimes shutting out the noise in one's head necessitates switching off 'phones, retreating to the garden where I have planted buddleia, a fragrant flower beloved by bees. This morning I found a good 15 minutes to just stare at the bees as they made their way around the plant hungrily feeding off each flower. What joy! Simple stuff makes me happy. 

Always remember, happiness is in your head. I met a client last week who is depressed, suffers with insomnia and is on anti depressants. I asked him why he was so miserable when he seemingly has it all. I suggested to him that he begin each day by smiling and giving thanks. This week I ran into him and he seems much better. Sometimes we revel in being miserable because it gives us something to do. Of course people will start saying I am deriding mental illness. Not so. But I do believe that if you want to be happy, you can be because…... it's all in your head.

Photo copyright SvD.

The march of the Far Left

Watching the prince and his handler as they rabbited word salads gleaned from self help books beloved by the likes of Oprah Winfrey (who as it happens grew very rich by regurgitating 'meaningful stuff' and 'changing lives'), I couldn't help feeling a surge of anger and exasperation. The prince and the handler are clearly a massive embarrassment to us Brits in general but the thing that riles me is their genuine lack of self awareness. I recall an American friend telephoning me in tears when the last episode of Oprah aired on TV. She felt bereft and mentor-less. Her days of soaking up wisdom while lying prostrate on a sofa in her pyjamas had come to an end and she felt rudderless. I watched Oprah once when she had dedicated an entire show to women whose hairdressers had ruined their lives with a bad haircut or the wrong colour. That was more than enough for me.

​​​​​​​The prince and his handler are so transparent in their psychobabble ramblings it's frankly hilarious. I can just imagine as the handler waves at the prince the thinnest of tomes entitled How To Change the World By Speaking Bullshit while he maniacally eats his cornflakes crouched in a corner. 'You better memorise this from cover to cover by lunchtime and as a reward I'll let you have one oatcake with smashed avocado! DID YOU HEAR ME? Blink if you can hear me!' The prince nods his head frantically but suddenly a mouthful of cornflakes sticks in his throat, forcing him to wretch. 'Oh, FFS, you IDIOT! Didn't I tell you that one ship causes a tide of change or a tide happens when they're loads of ships, or whatever the fuck it is! STOP SNIVELLING, dying, you fool! Go and change that child's nappy! Or shag the nanny, I don't care! Just get the fuck out of my face because I need to finish my speech on google fucking translate!'

​​​​​​​Some time later, the prince can be seen rocking back and forth in a straitjacket. He's giggling. The Handler thrusts a script at him. 'Read this. We're on in ten minutes!' Cut to the prince reading the script with glazed eyes. And the rest we all know about. Videos enticing a revolution of sorts to change the way things are, to disrespect authority, to demand that anyone who doesn't sing from the same far left entitled woke script be cancelled, their livelihood and accomplishments destroyed, obliterated. The far Left seem to have appointed themselves the Stasi of liberalism (oh, the irony), enforcing their dogma and intent on permanently decimating free speech or even constructive dialogue. The horror of the current rise of the far Left is unbridled ignorance, complete absence of metaphysical thought, an inflated pride of having zero self understanding, a Proletariat grabbing of the reins forcing society to follow the new rules. Well, they can fuck right off.

The handler who literally rose to her position by lying on her back is never going to speak in her own voice because she wouldn't know what it is. Put it this way, the sculptor Henry Moore, when interviewed about his work, remarked that it takes years for an artist to develop his own language. In other words, years of hard work, effort, graft, eventually becoming unique and recognisable. All of this is anathema to the woke generation brought up on a diet of instantaneous gratification. It seems no one bothered to tell them that they're nothing special after all. The truth is Da Vinci was remarkable but most of humanity is at best just average. The crux is not to be bothered by the pedantry of life but to understand that although wearisome, there is beauty in the simplicity of mundanity and in the ordinary. Simple, basic things ultimately provide human fulfilment. Here in France we are never far from reminders of the horrors of the Second World War. Every church or village square has a commemorative plaque to those who died in both World Wars. As young men lay dying in the trenches, witnesses recounted that their last word was often 'Mother!'. At the moment of death, they weren't ruing what they didn't have but the memory of a loving, protective presence. Love and courtesy to one another, seeing goodness in others, accepting that sometimes, in the words of Voltaire, we should be more preoccupied by our vegetable garden than the chaos of the world and its characters. Obsessing about what others think of us is without importance; yes, criticism can hurt but there are no guarantees in life or fool proof recipe for nirvana. Most of us bumble through life, awkward and unsure but over time we find an ease with ourselves that can be disarming. Authentic minds are rare but they they are very powerful. Someone who is comfortable in their own skin doesn't need to say so. They also see the world for what it is - a morass of soon forgotten details which fleetingly seemed to be of significance.

​​​​​​​Listening to Test Cricket in the UK today, I was despairing at the commentary which turned to racism. I wondered out loud how black West Indian cricketers managed to become some of the best players in the world, when they are, shock horror, black. I don't know what level of tolerance I am supposed to exhibit? Should I genuflect when meeting a black person? Should I apologise for being European? Should I take to the streets and wave a banner that "BlackLivesMatter"? Everyone is inherently racist and discriminates daily and unconsciously about something or other. The far Left who have some of the most dysfunctional lives and self medicate their dysmorphic brains with drugs, don't lie awake worrying that the peasant growing the stuff is essentially enslaved by the drug cartels, do they?

​​​​​​​The same applies to transgender rights. Well, I have rights too as a heterosexual woman born biologically as a woman and still with all her parts who sees herself as a woman. I don't actually have the energy to try and understand why your right to be understood and accepted is my bloody problem! I don't actually care! And no, if you haven't got a womb and have never menstruated you're not a woman, just hoping you were. The issue of rights in choosing sexuality is all new territory, the flagship of the woke warriors and sadly, there will be repercussions for future generations who will see 'confused' as the norm.

​​​​​​​When I did live radio and would interview guests I was frequently amazed by how easily they would share their problems. The secret to interviewing is that people LOVE to talk about themselves so let them. But why not switch your perspective around? Instead of complaining, why not exalt the good in the world and condemn the bad to the recesses of your reality. Which is precisely why I'm ignoring the prince and his handler and the rights that everyone wants because it's not society that matters or starving kids or some poor bloke who lost his livelihood through Coronavirus, IT'S THEM, or rather, ME, ME, ME, MYSELF and I, I, I....

Photo copyright SvD.

Rufus van Dalen

My darling doggie, Rufus, went to Heaven today. I could not have asked for a better friend. For ten years of the fifteen years we were together, Rufus and I only had each other and my priority was always him. I organised my life around my dear, faithful, wonderful hound. I could have given him up and gone off to live in London enjoying theatre, opera, art, all of the things I love. But here was someone who totally relied on me and who was my responsibility. People used to say that I should give him away so that I could have a better chance of meeting the man of my dreams. To me that wasn't as important and seeing my doggie smiling and knowing HE was happy and contented.

Rufus and I used to  walk for hours in the countryside in Surrey, Northamptonshire, Brittany and latterly the South West of France. When the dark fog of depression hounded me, Rufus and I would go for even longer walks and the clouds of despair would soon lift. How could I be sad watching Rufus roll in the grass or disappear into a field of buttercups and suddenly see his head appear, a huge grin on his face? Walking became my therapy and wherever I went, Rufus went too. If it hadn't been for Rufus, I simply wouldn't be here. In my darlest days, I just couldn't bear the prospect of leaving my dog behind.

In the last year, Rufus' cancer gradually reduced his quality of life to the point that he no longer smiled or looked happy. He remained patient with his younger brothers, particularly the puppy who would playfully crawl all over him and then bite his ears hoping for a reaction. Watching Rufus wither away broke my heart. In the last few days, he could barely get up and didn't even give me a second glance when I would leave the house with his brothers on my daily walk. I could sense Rufus was separating himself from me, once so close that he would sleep in my bed, his head snuggled into my back. Now he showed disinterest to everyone and everything.

Today has been an agonising flood of tears, so many that I can barely stand up. As he drew his last breath, I held Rufus in my arms, kissing his head and telling him how much I loved him and what a perfect dog he had been all of his life. I shall miss you, my darling. What a hole has been left in our lives and in our hearts. Sweet Rufus, my 'Babda', my saviour, I know you're gambolling amongst the buttercups now.

Photo copyright Ian C.

Photo copyright SvD.

Happiness is...

...sharing when you love someone..

Photo copyright SvD.

Beauty in small things

Photo copyright SvD.

Sweetness in #lockdown

Confined to the house since 17 March, hubby has taken to cake making like a duck to water regaling me daily with unctuous, fattening delights which I cannot resist. I am weak. Someone else in this photo is tempted too.

Photo copyright SvD.

Estrangement: darkness before dawn

For the last five years I have been working in French law and helping French property owners resolve succession or buying/selling isssues. In one particular case, a lady rang up to say that her mother had been sequestered in her house in France by her son who had also stolen all of the mother's money, or put in a more PC way, drained her bank accounts. I remember listening and then calmly putting the 'phone down once the conversation had ended. You see, the same thing happened to me.

One can read all the latest psychological ramblings and research on the effects of sibling estrangement. Supposedly it is rare (less than 5% in the US) but here's what I've learned through experience. I am an orphan. I am extremely resilient and hard working. I became a genius through poverty. Betrayal makes you hard as nails. You can spot a fraud, a time waster, a user, less than a mile away. The overwhelming sense of hatred doesn't diminish with time even though you want to forgive. I developed Herculean mental strength in order to survive. I view acquaintances/friends with detachment because when the chips were down, I was alone, on my own, completely by myself. I don't ask for advice because too many are curious not caring.

The benefits of estrangement mean that you work harder to make something of your life because no one, not even your own family would really care if you were lying dead in a ditch. That's a very hard pill to swallow especially when my late father never tired of telling me how much he adored me but the facts speak otherwise. I could have spent the last fourteen years dead but I chose to push myself so hard that I was able to buy my own home for cash and fulfil my dream of living in France. Don't get me wrong, I cracked under the strain and considered suicide. And I have had to sacrifice a lot in order to survive. But guess what? There are many others like me, so what I have had to endure is nothing special or extraordinary, so let's just call it 'unfortunate'. The flipside is it made me a better human being.

Life remains an incredible gift -somewhere in the stars we happened to be and I very much believe in the inevitability of life. Happiness too can be inevitable. I never take my life for granted. How lucky am I to be able to live in France, to be able to earn a living, to have three beautiful, contented dogs, to have found a supportive partner? How lucky am I to never waste a moment? To fill my days with work, cooking, writing, walking my dogs, gazing at my beautiful garden? How lucky am I to have simple, humble expectations of life? How lucky am I to still be able to love?

I wrote an earlier post on this blog about not despairing. After all, every time the sun rises or sets, is the promise of a new dawn. Just never forget that despair and anguish take up an awful lot of time which could be better spent elsewhere. And being distraught 24/7 will literally drive you insane. In the words of Monty Python, 'Always look of the bright side of life!'. Believe me, that's the one thing no one will ever do for you. No one can save your life, only you can.

All my best wishes to anyone who is estranged. Don't give up - take your life back with both hands. You are not alone.

Photo copyright SvD.

Better days are coming....

#Lockdown means I can enjoy walks with the dogs in the Spring sunshine and my, isn't it lovely, the warm rays on my face after a long and damp Winter. Yesterday, as we hoiked ourselves up the hill, the hounds panting loudly, I was reminded of the passage in the Bible about  the birds always having enough to eat, so why should we worry? We came upon dozens of oak seedlings carpeted under the parent tree, their nascent, pale green leaves, straining towards the sun.  The local red squirrels in France can often be seen jumping from tree to tree and this Winter, had a surfeit of acorns to gorge on and forgive the pun, squirrel away. Any that were left over germinated into saplings, nature renewing its eternal promise of hope and of better days to come.  Don't despair, don't worry, go for a walk in the woods and see what the future holds.

Photo copyright SvD.

When everything looks this perfect....

....it's hard to imagine the current chaos in the world. 'Things fall apart, the centre MUST hold.'

Photo copyright SvD.

Happiness in #lockdown

.....is sitting on the terrace in the sun with my older brothers.

Photos copyright SvD.

Whiling away time..

....perfecting poached eggs (hubby):

On home made bread.

Making a nut pie with leftover Christmas walnuts and hazelnuts:

Simple things provide infinite pleasure and bring out the best in us.
Photos copyright SvD.

Places to avoid on a Friday night...

...due to caronavirus but we had a blast at our local pub. Great music and traditional fish and chips!

Photo copyright SvD.

Spot the dog...

Photo copyright Ian C.

Rissoles from leftovers

We had bought a goose from our local farmer for Christmas but after a surfeit of turkey, couldn't face it. And so it languished in the freezer until last Saturday when friends helped us devour it. Last night was the third day running of finishing the goose, by which time we had had enough! To liven it up a bit and make the leftovers more appetising, I made rissoles: crunchy on the outside, unctuous within. A real delight served with plain boiled potatoes and a purėe of vegetables. Waste not, want not.

Photos copyright SvD.

A bald mouse

...is the literal translation of the French 'chauve souris' or 'bat' as we call them in English. I found this little chap in a garage. He suddenly dropped at my feet. I picked him up and his fur was so soft! Left the door slightly ajar so his mum could come back for him.

Photo copyright SvD.

Three little piggies...

The older I get, the happier really simple things make me. I'm no Meghan Markle, a walk in the countryside looking at some cute piglets playing in the mud is frankly enough for me. Money won't buy you happiness.

Photo copyright SvD.

My thoughts on Meghan Markle and Harry

First let me begin by saying that I'm 55. That means that I've been around the block a few times, kissed a few boys, worked hard and paid a truckload of tax, made sacrifices and never really got to live my dreams because life took over. I've had euphoric highs and breathtakingly black lows. I've learned who my friends are and who they aren't. I speak my mind because I have earned the right to tell people to f...k off who encroach on my valuable time and space. Therefore I won't hold back by saying that Meghan Markle is an odious character.

I see a lot of my mother in Meghan Markle because they could have been twins. My mother was a narcissist, a dreadfully unpleasant woman who disliked everyone, thought herself superior and manipulated events and people even her own children. The centre of her universe was herself. Meghan Markle's attention seeking, her alienating of Harry from his family, her subtle brainwashing to make him believe he is under siege for the sole purpose of making her the rock in the relationship, I have seen it all before..The truth is she doesn't like herself and suffers with crushing inadequacy with a large chip on her shoulder. Why else would she have had a nose job etc, and be obsessed with her persona in the public eye? Not dissimilar to Diana who craved attention because of her parents' divorce and unhappy relationship with them. To be frank, I often considered my father a saint to have stayed with my mother for fifty two years. To me it was a sort of madness to tolerate the absurdity of someone who would most of the time be completely false and controlling in her dealings with just about everyone including the pet dog. I abandoned my own marriage when I decided that life was too short to put up with someone else's shit.

I have zero sympathy for Harry born into a life of privilege unlike most middle class taxpayers like myself who are forced to live in a permanent state of exhaustion, taut with stress and concerns for our future. Harry made his choice and just has to live with it. He looks miserable enough and has the demeanour of someone who daren't have an original thought in his head for fear of a tantrum and being knocked out by a porcelain plate on its way across the room. One can only hope that one day as the plate whizzes past, he'll catch it midway and walk out the door.

The headline news today is Harry and Meghan want to be semi Royal but also to cash in commercially on their royal connections. Howzat? Are they dense or suffering with delusions of grandeur. Excuse me for asking but do they use the toilet like everyone else? It doesn't sound like it. Seems that they are so high on their own petard they are completely disconnected from reality. That's what narcissists do, they create their own reality where, yes, you guessed it, all they ever see is a reflection of their perfect divine image, one only worthy of worship and adulation.

I sincerely hope that the Queen will strip these two vile idiots of all the trappings that their titles bring and banish them to the stark wilderness. Remember how miserable they said they were whilestanding in Africa, the continent where shitting in a ravine, child soldiers, rape and corruption are par for the course? They've humiliated and upset the Queen, who the majority of Britons adore and respect. The Queen will probably go down in history as one of the world's best monarchs: hardworking, loyal and faithful to the hand dealt to her, apolitical, and we love her. The Queen doesn't complain or explain because her whole life has been about service and duty. Long may she reign and Ma'am, we are so sorry that you have to endure the disappointment and embarassment of your grandchild and his most disastrous choice of a fame obsessed trashy wife.