Springwatch is on

Hey, I just discovered it this evening: Springwatch was on! I catched it just in time. I cannot believe I didn't know, although it is a bit late in the year to have a "Spring" watch. It is true that I am not as big a fan of Springwatch as I am of Autumnwatch, but it is still lovely to see British wildlife. There are the usual stars of the show: beavers (they have been reintroduced in Britain), foxes (among my favourite), barn owls (another favourite of mine), various small rodents, birds and badgers. For me, a badger is mainly the name of a character in this British classic and this weird song. I saw a dead one by the road last Sunday, going back home. I felt a bit sad. Badgers, like all animals, are fascinating creatures. I will learn more about them with the program.I don't think I can love them as much as foxes or owls, but they will be my wildlife discovery of the year.

This picture was taken in the Keswick Museum. Any excuse is good enough to put pictures from Keswick here, but there is another reason for putting it here: as badgers are elusive, it was easier to take a picture of a dead stuffed one than a live one.

Question existentielle (50)

Juin commence demain et il commence à nouveau à faire chaud. Ce qui m'amène à me poser une question existentielle semblable à la question 18:

-Selon vous, quand est-ce que l'été commence vraiment?

A dreadful great unknown written line

I am not the father of another great unknown line, which I think is quite funny (if I may say so myself). Halloween Spirit blogged today about a zombie cake she made. She should be proud of it, the cake actually looks like a rotting undead head. My comment has not been published on it yet, so I publish it here in exclusivity:

"I hope it tastes better than it looks."

For those of you like who thinks that it is a long way until Halloween, this is my modest contribution to keep the spirit of the holiday alive. Oh, and I dreamt of a sinister l'Ankou looking character recently (don't flicker through your scary books before going to bed). If I have the discipline, I might try to put him in a horror story.

Un couple princier en visite au Québec?

Je viens de lire cette nouvelle. Kate et William seront en visite au Québec et à nos frais en plus. Était-ce vraiment nécessaire? Bon, maintenant je sais quand je ne vais pas rentrer au Québec. Il n'y a rien que j'exècre autant qu'un membre de la monarchie qui vient visiter les colonies, surtout quand la colonie en question, c'est mon pays. Bien sûr, certains radicaux vont sans doute faire du grabuge. Je doute qu'ils réussissent à enthousiasmer la foule. On n'est plus dans les années soixane, après tout. Un silence froid serait quant à moi préférable de toute façon qu'à une bordée d'oeufs et de tomates. Cela dit, il n'y a rien de particulièrement radical à protester contre les représentants de la monarchie, comme les Anglais eux-mêmes l'ont prouvé il n'y a pas si longtemps. Il faut dire que le prince Charles et Camilla sont moins séduisants que William et Kate, alors ils attirent moins la sympathie. Tout de même, j'aimerais bien qu'il soit attendu avec une brique et un fanal, le couple princier.

Tea, cake, scones and Mozart

Well, blogging certainly has its benefits, like my wife and I had the pleasure to discover recently: because we were passing by where Mozart's Girl lives we stopped there for tea. I ate among the best scones I had in life, drank lots of tea, with Mozart in the background. You cannot be better received than this and it is pretty much my idea of a great Sunday afternoon.

Since the cake was not ready when we arrived she was generous enough to give it to us. I hope she does not mind that I put the picture here. She was embarrassed by its appearance, I still haven't figured out why. Probably because she never saw any of mine. Artists are perfectionist with their work. I thought the frosting on the top was such a nice touch.

It was strange to meet for the first time in the flesh people whom I have known online for quite a while now. The idea of an online community takes its full meaning. We spend months, sometimes years in their company. Meeting them enhances the experience. It is the icing on the cake, so to speak. I cannot thank her enough for her hospitality, so this post is the least I can do to show my gratitude.

Grasse matinée involontaire

Tard couché, (beaucoup trop) tard levé. Parce que j'a commis l'erreur de manger du gâteau avec du thé (on n'avait plus de lait) hier soir j'ai eu droit à ma pire attaque d'insomnie depuis des mois. J'ai réussi à m'endormir aux petites heures du matin, ce qui fait que je me suis réveillé très tard aujourd'hui (il y a environ trente minutes, ou un peu plus). Je suis chanceux d'être en congé aujourd'hui, sans ça je serais un zombie au travail. Cela dit, j'ai perdu une grande partie de mon lundi de congé. Hé, misère...

May Fayre

There was a fayre today in the local park. We usually go there for a bit. I enjoy fayres quite a lot (although they can get boring). My favourite is Nuit Blanche sur Tableau Noir on the Plateau Mont-Royal, which I haven't been to in years. At the local May Fayre I am fairly predictable: I have lunch there, usually burgers, I have a pint of real ale (or more), I buy keyrings and other stuff from the Cats Protection Society (I did again this year, two keyrings as they don't last long and one bookmark), I try to encourage local businesses and I avoid like the plague Christian stands (I prefer to save cats than souls).

So that is pretty much what I did this year. I also bought some cream fudge, not from the stand of our local sweet shop but from another one, owned by a sweet old man who travels around towns to sell his products. He does not even have a shop. He also had the weirdest fudge mix, with rhubarb in it. It was still delicious and so unique I had to buy some. I love rhubarb, but that is for another post. It was a strange May fayre as it did not look like May at all: the weather was cloudy and quite cool for a month of May. In a way it was fitting that I had burgers, dark beer (an IPA that was not very pale) and fudge. Still, I miss Nuit Blanche sur un Tableau Noir a lot. There was something Bohemian about it that I could never find in other fayres.

Marcher dans les pas de l'histoire criminelle montréalaise

Mon lectorat sait que je me fascine pour l'histoire criminelle en général et pour l'histoire criminelle montréalaise en particulier. Je suis en train de lire Mafia Inc d'André Cédilot et André Noël. J'en suis encore au début du bouquin, au chapitre deux en fait. Or, dès le début du chapitre je lis ceci avec étonnement:

"Le New Miss Mont-Royal était un restaurant sans prétention. (...) Situé au 707 de l'avenue du Mont-Royal Est, en face de l'église Notre-Dame-du-Très-Saint-Sacrement, il fut remplacé avec le temps par une boutique de livres et de disques d'occasion. À l'époque, il desservait la clientèle d'un quartier populaire qui n'avait pas encore été transformé par l'arrivée massive d'artistes et de jeunes professionnels."

Cette boutique de livres usagés, c'est bien entendu L'Échange, où je me suis arrêté des centaines de milliers de fois sans savoir qu'il avait été le lieu d'un meurtre particulièrement violent lié au crime organisé. J'ai l'impression de lire un roman historique en même temps qu'un roman policier. Mais en plus, je vois la proximité de cette histoire criminelle avec mon passé de Montréalais. L'Échange sera maintenant un lieu de pèlerinage. Je ne crois pas que ce soit immoral: les touristes ici vont bien dans Whitechapel sur les traces de Jack l'Éventreur. La prochaine fois que je vais à L'Échange, j'y achète un roman policier.

How small is Europe

In the commute in the train today, I saw at random one of my fellow thespians who did the two acting courses with me. (An observation that struck me: it appears that I often find actors on the train.) She was getting to work, but since we have a long weekend because of a Bank Holiday, she was planning to take the ferry to Belgium this very afternoon. So from her home, to her work, by train to whichever port the ferry was leaving and from there to Belgium. And I learned tonight that my blogging friend Cynthia is going to Brussells too, from Paris.

And then it simply struck me tonight: Europe is a small continent, where you can change countries and cultures in a few hours, without having to deal with jetlag. We are at the doorstep of so many different places. I don't do that much about it, not during bank holidays anyway. Maybe it is because I am a North American, coming from a place that could contain five times France. You travel six hours in a car and you are still in Québec. Plenty of space, but comparatively little diversity on it. Just in the UK, you have four different countries. In Belgium, you have two different cultures, Wallons and Flamands. I am not talking about immigration here, simply about all those different nations living so close to each others. So close, yet so foreign to each others. Maybe that's why I stick to England for short trips: I still find it exotic.

Bruxelles de Jacques Brel

Aujourd'hui j'ai rencontré une de mes amies (enfin, connaissance) qui m'a dit qu'elle allait à Bruxelles pour la fin de semaine de trois jours. Or j'apprends aujourd'hui que Cynthia de Sur un Boeing Bleu de Mer s'en va également à Bruxelles demain. Étrange coincidence, je songeais à mettre du Jacques Brel sur ce blogue. Le hasard, ou le destin, me force donc la main.

J'ai visité la Belgique une fois, dont Bruxelles. J'en ai gardé un souvenir assez vague, à part les frites et les moules. Je n'ai vraiment découvert la Belgique qu'avec Jacques Brel. Bruxelles n'est pas ma chanson préférée de son répertoire, mais comme elle parle de la ville, je vais la mettre ici. Je connais la ville plus par cette chanson que par ma propre expérience.

Rain and thunder

After the wind came the storm. It was raining a lot today. Last night I was woken up by thunder, today it poured. Luckily enough, I was inside the whole time it rained, so I remained dry. When I walked home, there was big ponds of water and it smelled wet. I love heavy rains like this one, as long as I don't get caught in it (although even then I could appreciate it if it is not too cold. But I feel like I could not appreciate fully, as I was working. Yes, I blogged about this before. And before. We are going to have a three days weekend soon. I kind of hope that at least one day will be rainy. Not a monotonous rain but a big, violent, dramatic, atmospheric rain like I love, so I can enjoy it completely.

Cette fin de semaine de trois jours qui s'en vient

On va avoir droit à une fin de trois jours cette semaine, parce qu'on a une "bank holiday" pour une raison ou une autre. Je m'en était à peine rendu compte, en fait je l'ai su cette semaine. Je ne suis pas vraiment au fait des jours fériés anglais, en fait j'y suis carrément étranger. On n'a rien planifié, je crois que ce sera une fin de semaine tranquille. Je l'espère en fait: j'ai besoin de souffler un peu.

Blog and readership (and opera)

I was happily surprised today to discover that a high schooler (from Illinois according to Sitemeter), commented on an old post of mine, Sexy opera, which I was very proud of but sadly got unnoticed and was forgotten... until today. For some reason it made me feel quite happy. The high schooler found this blog by Googling "sexiest opera voice". Interesting. I am glad that I am not the only one in this world who thinks that opera is a sexy art, not only made of fat sopranos screeching and obese tenors digesting their pasta (yes, that was from the early blog). I am even happier to know that it is a kid loving opera.


So my blog is growing in readership, still I haven't beefed up the blogroll yet. I have not been an official followers of all the blogs on it either. I feel guilty about it. I feel even more guilty about not aswering all my comments, even by a sample thank you. So I am saying it now until I give it the proper attention it needs: thank you all for stopping by and commenting.

Un cheval et une calèche

Étrange spectacle en revenant chez moi ce soir après une journée de travail: dans la rue étroite menant à la gare, une de ces rues de villes anglaises tellement serrées que deux voitures ne peuvent pas passer en sens inverse en même temps, un il y avait un cheval tirant une calèche, avec un touriste (enfin je crois) dedans. Une calèche à cheval, ici? J'en ai vu ailleurs bien sûr, mais dans des villes où les touristes et les attractions touristiques abondaient et où les rues étaient assez larges pour ce genre d'activité.J'ai aussi vu bien des chevaux (et des vaches, et des moutons) dans les champs aux alentours (voir la photo à gauche), on dirait en fait qu'à chaque endroit où on peut avoir un peu de verdure les Anglais aiment y mettre un enclos avec des animaux de ferme, mais dans la ville c'est la première fois.

L'image m'a donc comme un peu frappé. Je crois que les conducteurs étaient plus surpris que moi et n'appréciaient guère. Mais les rues ici sont sans doute plus adaptée aux calèches qu'aux voitures. C'est donc un peu un retour naturel des choses, peu importe la raison pour laquelle il y a des calèches ici.

A Pint of Guinness and an Epiphany

Two bits of news, seemingly unimportant, gave me an epiphany recently. Fittingly enough, those pieces of news and the epiphany concerned Ireland. I say fittingly enough, because James Joyce developed the concept of secular epiphany.

The first piece of news is about Queen Elizabeth, who in her historical trip to Ireland refused a pint of Guinness. I was not shocked, I was not outraged, I was disgusted. What, is she in the A.A. or something? I mean what a petty snob! You don't refuse to drink Guinness when you are offered some! You just don't. At least have a sip dammit! The second piece of news is about president Obama, who in his visit to Ireland downed the lovely beverage. The president had earned my respect and admiration before, but that is just a nice icing on the cake. I don't know how much Irish blood he really has, but he certainly has Irisi spirit (and completely deserves this song). It was a trivial matter, but he did what he had to do.

I say trivial, but maybe not so much. The Queen refusing to even wet her beak with a Guinness was not only rude, it was showing a lack of understanding or sensibility. Guinness is pretty much the Irish national drink. Obama got it right, instinctively. I think it has something to do, a bit, with the fact that he was born and grew up in a republic. Of course, the Queen is absolutely foreign to this. I think she might even be foreign to her own subjects, but that is a topic for another post. No matter how many speeches she can make, how many visits she can give, in the end, she does not belong to this world of commoners, where you earn your place with hard work, intelligence, creativity, merit. Refusing to drink this Guinness, she was out of place and out of touch.

Un volcan et un certain air de déjà vu

Je lis les nouvelles aujourd'hui, et je ne peux pas m'empêcher de penser à l'année dernière. À peine plus d'un an plus tard et un autre volcan islandais se met à faire des siennes. Ce sont grosso modo les mêmes nouvelles, les mêmes images, les mêmes chambardements... Mais ça n'arrive pas à moi. Pour faire changement, ce malheur-là arrive à d'autres voyageurs. Encore heureux que je n'aie pas pas choisi de prendre des vacances en mai!  

Quand même, quand j'étais enfant, mes frères et moi (surtout PJ) étions fascinés par les volcans. Comme par pleins d'autres trucs, mais les volcans ont fait l'objet d'une attention particulière. Ils étaient les lieux terrifiants de bien des jeux enfantins. Maintenant, ils font annuler les vols. Il n'y a pas à dire, ça les rend déjà plus banals.

Windy days

This is a picture from the inside of the Temple of Aeolus in Kew Gardens. I decided to put it here because it fits the topic of this post and because, well, it is a beautiful monument that fascinates me. Like I said in this post, the temple is visited by the elements. Which is kind of neat.

So yesterday and today were very windy days. Yesterday was sunny and windy and quite nice. Not very warm but not cold either, it was just a nice windy day, good enough to fly a kite. Then today it was mostly cloudy and miserable and the wind was much colder. It didn't feel right as I was not wearing warm enough clothes. I was not exactly freezing and I spent all day inside anyway, but when I was out it was not comfortable.

I love windy days, either hearing the wind from inside, or walking out dressed appropriately (like I did yesterday). In this strange month of May that sometimes almost looks like autumn, I would love to spend more time walking in it.

Un air sérieux et un nom espagnol

Une collègue hispanophone m'a dit aujourd'hui alors que je retournais de la pause du midi (que j'avais écourtée à cause de la pile de travail à faire) que j'avais donc l'air sérieux. Bien sûr que j'avais l'air sérieux: une pile de travail à faire, c'est lundi, il pleut, il vente, j'ai une pile de travail à faire, ai-je dit que j'avais beaucoup de travail? Cela dit, je ne crois pas que ça ait rendu ma journée plus facile d'avoir l'air sérieux. Alors je vais tenter de faire comme elle m'a conseillé et de sourire. Mais je déteste avoir le sourire forcé, ils ne sont pas naturels et ils ne rendent pas plus serein.

Autre anecdote: elle m'a appelé Guillermo, qui est bien sûr mon nom en espagnol. Mes amis italiens m'appelaient parfois Guglielmo, j'ai entendu plus rarement quelqu'un m'appeler par un autre variante. Je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais cette anecdote a fait ma journée. Peut-être parce que ma mère m'appelait parfois Guillermo quand j'étais enfant, allez savoir pourquoi. Peut-être parce que, comme l'a commenté un ami sur ce billet, ça démontre une fois de plus que je suis un genre de Zelig. Ca n'a quand même pas amené l'Espagne ici...

Where to write

Maybe it is because Leigh Russell will be hosting a creative writing workshop in the South of France and because Mozart's Girl blogged about Beatrix Potter and the Lake District, anyway I thought quite a lot about writing places. I mean you write in a setting, a place where you can get your mind focused on the task ahead and which hopefully gives you inspiration, whether it is to blog like I do or to write a novel or whatever. J.K. Rowling started writing Harry Potter in a train, which is a lovely place to read when the journey is long, but I never thought it was the ideal place to write. She used to write in cafés too, which again I find a lovely place to read, but too public to write. During my years as an undergraduate, some cafés in Montreal were simply overcrowded with aspiring poets and writers. I wonder if they published anything.

I always dreamed of having an attic room to work in. This would be for me the best place to write. It is usually quiet, you feel closer to the elements, far away from the busy rooms of the house, it just fits writing. And you can always look out the window when you cannot find inspiration. I sorely lack an office in an attic room in this attic flat. I guess the basement could work well for writing. A garden too, if it is quiet enough and if the weather is nice.

Now if we widen the focus and thinkof writing environment, the ideal place depends of what you are writing. For any kind of fiction, the French midi seems like a pretty good place. Since I consider crime fiction mainly an urban genre, I think I would rather write it in a city (you know which one), with just enough noise and a crime history for source material. If I ever write horror stories, I hope my attic room will be in a quiet English village. There is nothing more deliciously sinister as quiet English villages. If I wanted to write fantasy, I would probably choose an English village too. But of course, one would have to be quite wealthy to afford the luxury of writing in so many places, depending of his mood and what he is writing. I suspect this is why successful writers often owned many houses. Others have to compromise. Given the choice, I would choose an attic room, wherever it might be, to write anything.

Où trouver Fantômas

Je blogue souvent là-dessus, mais quand je suis sur une lancée autant la continuer, même si je sais que Fantômas n'intéresse peut-être bien que moi (et ce serait une erreur). Enfin bref, je sais maintenant où trouver le Fantômas de Chabrol. Enfin! Bon, je ne sais pas si je vais acheter la série, bien qu'elle ne soit pas chère, mais c'était déjà bien de pouvoir voir des extraits. Pas aussi brillants que je l'aurais cru ou espéré, mais pas mal. C'est tout de même supérieur aux parodies minables de Hunnebelle. La série de Feuillade, dont j'ai vu les deux premiers épisodes (brillants), je sais déjà où la trouver (et je vais donc sans doute me taper du noir et blanc muet bientôt).