The world's sexiest criminal?

I know I may be reporting old news, but soon she will be in court, on the 17th of November, so this is in fact still very new. I am referring to Stéphanie Beaudoin, a cat burglar from Québec, who was dubbed "the world's sexiest criminal" by tabloids around the globe, among them the Daily Mail. Which is where I learned about her. A trashy right wing tabloid from the UK. She is, in essence, a real-life Catwoman. But from Victoriaville, Québec. And, behind the glamour shots that made her famous through social medias, she is a far more sinister than Catwoman: not only is she accused of 42 acts of breaking and entering, but she also owned illegal firearms.

That said, I must confess I have a certain fascination for the woman. Not pride, even though she is from Québec. I do not have twisted pride for home grown criminals, however good looking and famous they can be. But she is a character that belongs to crime fiction. Not merely a creature of the social medias who revealed her, but the embodiment of the archetype of the femme fatale. There is the bikini shot of course, but also the one where she is holding a machine gun, in a short dress and wearing jewelry and glasses. Elegant yet deadly. An artist would draw a female character like that, I would deem it cliché. Even her appearance going to court, with the glasses, confirms her status as a femme fatale icon: she is a bit of a chameleon, not unlike another famous cat burglar. And well, it is fascinating. I do not find crime sexy, yet I love crime news like a sucker and find it source of inspiration for crime fiction, where crime can be sexy, in a cathartic way.

Goüri Glogenflobish

Nous sommes lundi, c'est donc pour vous faire oublier le premier jour de la semaine que je vous présente un autre clip de Taquinons la planète. De l'humour absurde de François Pérusse, qui collaborait à l'émission. C'était un mariage plutôt réussi avec les Bleu Poudre, mais je ne sais toujours pas pourquoi je trouve Goüri Globenflobish si drôle.

The poppy and the needle

This is a trivial post about a non trivial subject. For something more thoughtful, you might want to read this post from 2008. Today is/was Remembrance Day. It is actually Remembrance Sunday, as it is Sunday. And like most years, while I had a poppy, I did not wear it. I know I should, but at some point something happens and I lose it or it drops or out of frustration I stop wearing it. It is very simple really: it is all the needle's fault. Every year, I buy a poppy, sometimes more as I lose the first one, then I struggle to put it on. I am rubbish with that darn needle: it does not hold the paper poppy very well, or at all, then it does not stay on me anyway. So the needle ends up prickling my skin and letting the red flower go. They should invent something else to hold it, some pegs or something of the sort. So my respect towards the sacrifices of a dead generation is thwarted by a stupid needle and my own clumsiness.

Un harfang des neiges

Cette photo a été prise lors de notre fin de semaine dans le Derbyshire, dans un sanctuaire de loutres et de hiboux et chouettes. C'est bien entendu un harfang des neiges, ou ookpik comme le disent les Inuits. Incidemment, c'est notre emblème aviaire. Je le télécharge ce soir, outre par fierté québécoise parce que c'est un très bel oiseau prédateur, mais parce que c'est un hibou hivernal et que je sens l'hiver arriver de plus en plus. Il neige à certains endroits au Québec, me suis-je laissé dire. Comme ce blogue prend les couleurs des saisons, le plumage neigeux (ça se dit?) et hivernal du ookpik illustrerait parfaitement mon état d'esprit.

Fireworks

As I am typing this, there are fireworks outside. As you may know, fireworks displays do not start and end on Bonfire Night/Guy Fawkes Night in the UK. They can usually be seen and heard during the whole month of November, or at least during the beginning of it, and in the few days before as well. It does get tiresome, but at least it gives the month a certain character it does not have anywhere else. To be honest, I am not the biggest fan of fireworks. As a child, nothing impressed me more, but not so much as an adult. As I said here, I much prefer the bonfire on Bonfire Night. What I love most now about fireworks is the smell of smoke in the cold night. There is just something about it.

Un nouveau dessert pour Prof Solitaire

Mon confrère blogueur Prof Solitaire a recommencé la guerre de la food porn que l'on avait entamée il y avait quelques mois, alors je me venge ce soir avec cette photo d'un mousse chocolat et cassis, achetée dans une pâtisserie locale. La différence avec ce qu'il blogue, c'est que moi je l'ai achetée et en ai mangé, de cette mousse. Juste pour retourner le fer dans la plaie... Avouez que je suis sans pitié aucune. Machiavélique et sanguinaire, c'est ma devise. Essaie de battre ça, PS.

Welsh rarebit

The Brits will easily identify the dish on this picture, Welsh rarebit, which is one of the great, great gastronomical discoveries I've made in my years in this country. I know it is only a glorified grilled cheese sandwich, but it is delicious all the same, especially on a cold day, like it was then and like it is now. This particular Welsh rarebit was ordered by my wife in the No Car Cafe in the middle of nowhere in Derbyshire, where we went the first weekend of October to visit her childhood friend and her husband. I made the mistake to order something else, a bagel with smoked salmon. Which was not bad, for a not-Montreal bagel, but I should have stuck with what the Brits do best. Anyway, as it is the weekend and it is a tradition on this blog to plug a dish from somewhere, here is the Welsh rarebit she had. If you visit this country, I recommend that you try it at least once.

Le loup, le renard et la belette

Je sais, je sais, la chanson s'appelle La jument de Michao, mais pour moi c'est Le loup, le renard et la belette. C'est bien breton, bien celtique et bien néo-trad et bien saisonnier. Bref, j'adore. Alors j'ai décidé de la télécharger ici, interprété par Tri Yann (connais pas). Je me trompe ou c'est une chanson absolument brillante? Je sais pas pourquoi, mais je le trouve.

On Bonfire Night

I am back from Bonfire Night, or Guy Fawkes Night, which I care little about usually. I spend it at home more often than none, but my wife convinced me to go (mainly because it was held at the school where she works). And I was surprised to enjoy myself quite a lot. Fireworks were late and it was short, but maybe when it happens in midweek, it is the way to do it. Anyway, what I love most about Bonfire Night is not the fireworks, but actually the bonfire. I LOVE bonfires, the smell of fire in the November night. Simply priceless. It makes me enjoy November, which is not small feast. There was one disappointment: I usually have Roasted Nuts on Guy Fawkes Night, which is one of my favourite beers down this side of the world. Sadly, they had already sold out when I went. So instead, I settled for mulled wine. My first mulled wine of the year. So not all was lost.

Le pont racoleur

Je tenais à bloguer sur cette décision stupide du gouvernement conservateur de changer le nom du nouveau pont Champlain en... Pont Maurice Richard. Je dis stupide, mais c'est pire que ça: c'est cynique et démagogue. Et pas rien qu'un peu. Ca me met vraiment en colère. Toutes proportions gardées, Champlain a eu une importance bien plus grande dans l'existence même du Québec que Maurice Richard, malgré toute l'admiration que je dois à ce dernier. Et un pont montréalais devrait rendre hommage à l'un des fondateurs du Québec, pas à son enfant chéri, aussi chéri soit-il. La caricature de Chapleau montre bien à quel point cette idée est grotesque.

"I create as I speak"

You know the Arameic word for it. Yes, you really do: it is abracadabra, as I learned recently. Etimologically, abracadabra means, more or less, "I create as I speak". This is the word of the day... Or the night. I know, I know, it is Bonfire Night, but I can't be bothered to blog about it. Maybe tomorrow, when I will have something about the night. So anyway, abracadabra. I never bothered wondering what it meant, I always thought it was like "mumbo jumbo". And now, knowing its meaning... I kind of like it. I create as I speak is what we do when one writes fiction... or blogs. Like I am doing now.

Humour sacré

J'ai vu ce gag sur la page d'une amie facebook (la mère de mon filleul, pour ne pas la nommer. Je dois dire que c'est tordant. Mieux: c'est blasphématoire. J'ai un faible pour l'humour blasphématoire, parce que lorsqu'il est bien fait il déboulonne les lieux communs bondieusards. J'ai par conséquent décidé de le partager ici.

Acting nostalgia

It struck me tonight: four year ago yesterday, I had my first acting class in England in a long time. I had written my first impression on acting again the next evening in a post that was thus written... four years ago tonight. And I miss it. I went to acting classes for a few months, then after the second course was completed, I stopped, because they were not offered anymore. I bumped into my former my teacher at random last year in Waitrose. A year ago or thereabout, actually. It seems to be the time for reminiscence. We live in the same town, yet we never bumped into each other. Anyway, I did not have time to speak to her for very long, neither did she, she was with two demanding (but very cute) daughters. I don't remember what she said she was doing, if she said anything. I also looked for some productions here and acting courses, I could not find any course and no amateur production that interested me enough. Maybe I am too demanding. All the same, tonight I miss acting. It made me feel active, gave me something else to do, gave me a social life. It was simply great.

Le s'quatre novembre au soir

On est le quatre novembre au soir. Et les Québécois de ma génération vont se rappeler ce clip des Bleu Poudre. Tiré de Taquinons la Planète. Ah, le Québec des années 90! L'humour absurde à son meilleur. Un classique des Bleu Poudre, mais il doivent ce gag au français laborieux de Jean Chrétien.

The best macaroni and cheese

I recently blogged about the very best macaroni and cheese I ever had, in a French post, which had a lot of success. Ironically enough, it was a success among my English readers. It is a recipe from a Rose Elliot book, my wife is quite fond of her cooking. As it is the first Monday of November, thus a doubly dreary Monday, I thought I would plug again the macaroni and cheese and give the recipe, a courtesy of my wife, who wrote it all in a blog comment last time. The secret is, I think, the capers and especially the Dijon mustard. They really make the recipe stand out. Anyway, here it is:

350g macaroni
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons plain flour
1 pint of milk
150g boursin cheese with herbs & garlic or black pepper (optional)
1-2 heaped teaspoons of Dijon mustard
2-3 tablespoons of capers
250 g strong cheddar cheese, grated
Freshly grated nutmeg
250g cherry tomatoes, halved
Salt and pepper
1. Cook pasta

2. Put olive oil in another pan, add the flour. Stir for a minute or two, until smooth, then add milk, a quarter at a time, whisking after each addition to make a thick sauce.

3. Remove from heat, and add the Boursin, cheddar (leaving a handful), mustard, capers – and then the cooked, drained macaroni.

4. Season with grated nutmeg, salt and pepper, then gently stir in the cherry tomatoes.

5. Put it into baking dish, adding cheddar over top. Cook for 30 mins at gas mark 6/200 C until bubbly and golden.

Ralentir le rythme

J'ai pris cette photo au Totnes Museum lors de mes dernières vacances dans le Devon. Je l'ai choisie parce que ça illustre mon propos et parce que c'est une jolie photo. De l'encre, une plume et du nécessaire pour écrire. Tout simplement pour dire que je vais ralentir le rythme un peu pour bloguer. Pour aucune raison particulière: avec novembre je manque toujours un peu d'inspiration. Et au lieu d'angoisser sur le syndrome de la page blanche, comme je le fais à chaque novembre, je préfère attendre d'être inspiré.

A missed evening with Fabian Perez?

Last week, I have received from an art gallery an official invitation, with an admission ticket to make it even more official, to go to a new exhibition by Fabian Perez. Later on, I even received a voice message on my mobile from the art gallery, asking me to confirm. I have not replied yet. Because I am afraid that I cannot be there that evening. For a very good reason: it is my wife's birthday and thus we planned something else. Of course, we could just change the plan, go there and I could buy to my wife one of his paintings as a birthday present. Except for one thing: however I love his work, I don't think I can afford any painting by Fabian Perez. And even if I could, my wife does not like his paintings nearly as much as I do, so that would be like paying myself a present, thus very selfish.

So instead I will visit the gallery at another time, when there is less pressure to buy and I won't be shamed as a cheap skate art lover in front of the maestro. I still have the internet to shamelessly download images of his paintings and shamelessly share them on my blog. This one of Champagne glasses, something I would see at the exhibition. Although the one and only time I went there, it was Prosecco that was offered.As for meeting Fabian Perez and talking to him, there will be other occasions.

Un champignon

La photo a été prise par ma cousine Amy, la photographe. Avec sa permission, j'ai décidé de la télécharger (avec sa permission) comme première photo officielle de novembre sur ce blogue. Je crois que le champignon sur la photo est une sorte d'amanite. Un champignon vénéneux. J'ai déjà blogué à propos de ma relation conflictuelle et de ma fascination pour les champignons. Pour moi, ils sont une des manifestations de l'automne et comme c'est encore l'automne, je le télécharge ici. C'est aussi une photo superbe.

The blues after Halloween

Well, today we are All Saint's Day, first day of November. Which means Halloween is over. Of course, like many of my readers, I am struck with post-Halloween blues. Like every year. I am happy with how Halloween 2014 turned out, overall, I managed to read a lot of scary stories and watch a few horror movies too. I also prepared Samhain from the end of August onwards, to enjoy it fully. If you read the posts from October, you see that I was also prolific and obsessed about it. I was inspired. And the funny thing is, I lacked time: I had far more posts about Halloween in me. It will have to wait until next year. Now I need to exorcize the season. November is a long month, I will need to vary topics a bit. But I might not be as prolific. I will need, in any case, to get rid of the post Halloween blues.

Je suis l'océan Pacifique et je suis le plus grand

"Je suis l'océan Pacifique et je suis le plus grand. On m'appelle ainsi depuis très longtemps, mais ce n'est pas vrai que je suis toujours pacifique. Je me fâche parfois, et alors je donne une raclée à tous et à tout. Aujourd'hui par exemple, je viens de me calmer mais hier, je dois avoir tout raflé sur trois ou quatre îles et autant de coquilles de noix que les hommes appellent bateaux... Celle-ci... Oui, celle que vous voyez ici, je ne sais pas comment elle a pu s'en sortir. C'est peut-être pârce que le capitaine Raspoutine connaît son métier et que ses marins viennent des îles Fidji. Ou bien parce qu'ils ont fait un pacte avec le Diable. Mais cela n'a pas d'importance, aujourd'hui c'est Tarowean, le jour des surprises, le jour de tous les Saints, le 1er novemvre 1913"

Ce que je cite plus haut est le début de La ballade de la mer salée d'Hugo Pratt, première aventure de Corto Maltese (où il n'y était alors qu'un personnage parmi tant d'autres). Je le cite parce que nous sommes la Toussaint. Fête qui marque l'arrivée de novembre et que je n'aime pas. J'ai déjà blogué à ce sujet. La Toussaint est trop austère, trop religieuse, trop tout. Mais cette citation, je l'aime beaucoup. Pratt était un écrivain à part entière. Et c'est peut-être jusqu'ici la seule allusion littéraire à la Toussaint que j'aie lue et que j'aime vraiment. Alors j'ai songé commencer le mois avec elle.