The Lambton Worm

I have first read about the legend of the Lambton Worm in All About Monsters, from which this image is taken from. It made me want to visit the village of Lambton. I have not done so yet, but I think this part of England might become a future holiday destination. Anyway, you can read the account of the legend with the image, taken from the book, but there are better versions online. I found this one, which I particularly enjoyed.

Something in this image, however schlocky it was (and from a schlocky book), really fired up my imagination as a child. You had the desperate hero in a fight to death against a terrible foe, using gadgetry to kill his adversary. You had a dragon more akin to a serpent. Reading the story going with it, and the story really took life. The monster's main characteristic was not a mean of attack, but of defense: its capacity to regenerate. It also has a river as a place of danger and the source of unnamed abominations. You have the morally flawed hero, whose lack of religious devotion made him and his fellow countrymen vulnerable to evil, put them in way of harm. It is a great local legend that deserves to be better known. So I thought I would contribute to spread it on Vraie Fiction. When/if I have time, I might write my own take of the legend one day.

Les tortues m'indiffèrent

Je regardais mes photos de vacances au Devon de l'année dernière (en fait les seules vacances passées au Devon) et je suis tombé sur cette photo de tortues, prise au sanctuaire de loutres (!) à Buckfastleigh. C'est la seule photo des tortues que j'ai prise, alors qu'il y en a pleins d'autres animaux, même des cygnes et des goélands que l'on voit pourtant partout ailleurs. Et je me rends compte que, parmi nos cousins et cousines du règne animal, les tortues m'indiffèrent. Je ne les déteste pas comme les rats, je ne les aime pas comme bien des bêtes à poil, elles ne cultivent pas mon imagination comme disons les crocodiles (pour mentionner d'autres reptiles), enfin bref elles ne m'intéressent pas. Même dans la fable du lièvre et de la tortue, j'ai de la sympathie pour le lièvre. Sinon, je les associe aussi aux Tortues Ninja, mais j'ai arrêté de m'intéresser à cette bédé/ce dessin animé depuis des années. Alors tout ça pour dire que je vais essayer de redécouvrir les tortues et essayer de développer un intérêt pour elles.

Being a middle aged man

If this post sounds familiar, it is because I mentioned something similar before. Here, here and here, among different times. But anyway, I saw today and it struck me like it always does when I see it: my temples are greying, so is my beard and my eyes are getting wrinkled.I recently refereed to me in a post as a middle aged man. And it kind of freaked me out seeing my face in the mirror today, knowing very well that I am one, that I have integrated this reality enough to talk about myself as a middle aged man. Scary stuff.

Un gâteau aux bleuets

Puisque que mon confrère blogueur Prof Solitaire a repris récemment la guerre de la food porn avec des photos alléchantes de desserts, je riposte. D"abord avec le flan aux pruneaux, ensuite avec cette photo, qui date de l'automne 2014. Je l'avais gardée en cas d'urgence comme celle-ci. C'est une photo d'un gâteau blanc aux bleuets (enfin confiture de bleuets entre les étages), acheté dans une foire gastronomique pour produits haut de gamme dans un hôtel haut de gamme. Le bleuet étant le fruit emblématique du Saguenay-Lac-Saint-Jean, je me suis comme senti obligé d'essayer celui-là, même si c'était pas donné du morceau. Je ne me rappelle plus quelle pâtisserie l'a confectionné. Je vais essayer de trouver d'ici à l'automne prochain.

The cheese controversy

I took this picture a few weeks at the local market for local producers. They hold this market at the last Saturday of each month. It comes from the cheese stand, held by an elderly English cheesemaker, one of the most English Englishman I have seen in years. He was full of English commonsense wisdom: he was making himself a delicious breakfast (because "you can't start a day without a proper English breakfast"), composed of one goose egg, two sausages, two rashers of bacon and a cup of tea (because "you can't have a proper English breakfast without a cup of tea"). Tokens of English wisdom which are now great unknown lines. But it is his pride as an Englishman for English cheese that struck me.

He sure knows how to sell his stuff and I did buy far more cheese than I expected simply because he was so darn convincing. Especially a cheddar that tasted a bit like parmesan ("only better" he said), but unlike Parmesan was suitable for vegetarians (my wife could thus eat it, although she did not like it much). And there is this jab about French cheese. Gotta love English pride. I don't think English cheese is superior as much as just as good as French cheese, but there you go. The man sure knew how to make a stand. I still wonder if the u in superior is a voluntary mistake to make the word sound more English. In any case, notice that he also makes a distinction between cheese and fromage. And you, where do you stand in this debate? Do you agree with the statement? As I said I don't, but I admire the man all the same. He reminds me why I love England so much.

La sonnerie du samedi matin

Tu parles d'une façon que certains ont de commencer leur fin de semaine: ils sonnent à notre porte un samedi matin. Je ne sais pas quelle heure il était, il ne devrait pas être trop tôt, mais je dormais toujours. En général, je dors assez tard le samedi matin. Et là, il y a eu cette sonnerie. Une seule sonnerie, ce qui me fait croire que c'était sans importance. Nous n'attendions pas de colis, alors c'était autre chose. Des Témoins de Jéhovas? Des Mormons? Je les soupçonne souvent de ce genre de coup fourré.  Mais bon, ça peut être simplement quelqu'un qui voulait visiter l'un de nos voisins et qui s'est trompé de numéro. Tout de même, ça m'a mis en rogne pour cinq minutes.

Brother Gorilla

I have been looking a long time for a decent translation of a song of Georges Brassens, one of my favourite French singers and my favourite poet of the Fench language. I found this version of Le Gorille by Jake Thackray, which I think was quite good. Not nearly as rich and powerful as the original of course (there is even a bit lacking), but still, it is done with genuine love and deference to the source material. And it is still a brilliant piece, funny, burlesque, uncompromisingly offensive and yet profound. In fact, it is a profoundly humanist song.

Le Flou et la Vie (la photo du mois)

C'est le moment de la photo du mois, le thème était "le flou et la vie" choisi par Lyonelk. J'ai eu quelques maux de têtes, ai peut-être raté une belle occasion de publier cette photo, mais finalement je me suis décidé pour celle-ci. Le parc local, innondé en mars 2014, dans le coin où les enfants vont jouer. L'eau crée le flou. Avec les arbres et cet endroit désert, condamné et pourtant plein de vie d'habitude (et sans doute grouillant de vie bactériologique), je crois que ça colle assez bien au thème.

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Earl Grey with a citrus twist?

The tea amateurs and connoisseurs may have noticed it: there is a new blend of Earl Grey from Twinings. It is called Earl Grey Citrus (I think it is this one anyway). It says on the big that it has "a citrus twist". Usually at work, they have a choice of breakfast tea and Earl Grey. Now they switched the Earl Grey to this new edition. I always drink Earl Grey in the morning at work, because of its alleged virtues. One of them in particular: it is meant to give you energy. And I often desperately need an energy boost in the morning. So anyway, I decided to try this special Earl Grey edition and... And I am not convinced. At first I thought I thought I was drinking some lemon flavoured cough medicine, but I got used to it. Still, there is something odd about the citrus taste. Anybody else tried it? If so, what did you think of it?

De la nature de L'ostie d'chat

Quelque chose m'est venu en tête à propos de L'ostie d'chat. Bon, je le savais déjà, enfin j'en étais conscient dès ma première lecture de la bande dessinée, mais j'y ai pensé plus en détail ce soir. Le chat en question, appelé Legolas (ainsi nommeé en l'honneur de, ben, lui), est en fait un MacGuffin. Il est donc un prétexte à l'histoire. Sa présence dans la bande dessinée est périphérique et il apparaît donc très peu, toujours pour faire interagir les personnages et lancer ou relancer l'action, ou encore mettre certaines résolutions en suspens. On sait très peu de son passé, sinon qu'il a eu un ancien propriétaire schizo qui s'est suicidé. On sait aussi qu'il est moche, contrairement à son homonyme. Sinon, il n'est pas le personnage principal d'une bédé dont il est le titre.

The Krav Maga Experience

I had my second Krav Maga class this evening. So let's start by the essential bit of news: I survived and I am in one piece. Which means that I can blog and blog about it. I also am in a better state. Yes, I am in pain, but not nearly as much. And, unlike last time, I did not nearly faint at the end of it. Because I did not push myself too hard (unlike last week). Also, because I drank throughout the class. Oh what a difference a bottle of water can make! Regarding the lesson itself, I will not say I am talented, far from it (any martial art is not a natural thing for me), but I see that I can learn and I am not completely hopeless. I enjoyed it far more, loved it and I am so glad I signed up for it.

And there are the little things peripheral to the course, which I am enjoying already. I got my free tshirt for instance, manufactured from KombatUK (military products) To be honest I think I look silly in military clothes. I mean, for those of you who saw me in picture or in person, try to imagine me with the Urban T-Shirt. I guess it was the first time I wore it, so it kind of felt strange. But I am not the only middle aged warrior in the group, so I don't stand out, except in my own eyes. Which leads me to the other peripheral thing I love about it: it gives me a modicum of social life. I don't have friends yet, they may never become more than acquaintances, but talking to new people from all walks of life is great. I want to write more about it. Right now, suffice to say that I enjoy talking to my new fellow middle aged warriors.

McAuslan se met au cidre

Tiens, deux fois de suite, je fais dans le billet brassicole. J'apprends via La Presse que la Brasserie McAuslan a décidé de faire du cidre. Mon frère PJ est sceptique. Moi, j'ai confiance: il y a pas rgand-chose de McAuslan que je n'ai pas aimé et si une brasserie peut faire du et populariser le cidre québécois, c'est bien elle.

Zebedee (the beer)

I have often plugged beers from Rebellion Beer in Marlow. Their products can be found in pubs all around the South East of England. They make among my favourite beers, especially the seasonal ones (see this post about their winter one). The one I am blogging about tonight is not my favourite among the ones they make, or the kind of beer I would usually have, but it is lovely on a warm Spring day or even a Summer day. It is called the Zebedee. The name is vaguely Biblical and I guess since it is their official Springtime beer, it is reminiscent of Easter. Or maybe I am reading far too much in what is in essence just a name.

Still, for whatever reason it is their Springtime beer. I think it would fit Summer even more. Because Spring in England, just like many places, can be cool, of not cold, and a blonde beer with a fresh taste suits the warmer days of Summer far better. The Rebellion website says it is available from March until April, but I have seen it being served in May as well. For a blonde, the Zebedee has a good deal of character, another reason why I would rather have it in Summer. I prefer it to their Blonde, which is too light for my taste. During summertime I have their Smuggler (more about it on this post) or sometimes their Mutiny. Still, in the occasions when I am in the mood for a blonde that is not insipid, I go for a Zebedee if it is available.

Un flan aux pruneaux

Ce soir je vous fais un autre billet qui parle de bouffe. je ne tenais pas à en faire un de sitôt (j'essaie d'espacer mes billets gastronomiques), mais Prof Solitaire en a remis avec sa food porn alors voilà, les gants sont tombés et je reprends le sentier de la guerre. C'est lui qui a commencé les hostilités. Ainsi donc, j'ai acheté ce flan aux pruneaux au marché français qui était en ville au début du mois. J'achète toujours des flans quand ils passent, d'habitude à la noix de coco parce que ce sont mes préférés, mais là c'était des flans aux pruneaux. Enfin bref, mets ça dans ta pipe Prof: c'était délicieux. Et ne me dis pas que tu détestes les pruneaux.

Locked outside

Coming home from work, my wife got locked outside the apartment this afternoon. She recently changed purses and she had forgotten to move her keys from the old purse to the other. As a result, she had to wait for me to be home. In sum, she waited two hours outside. Thankfully, it was sunny and warm. And I was not delayed by anything on the way home. Still, her morale was surprisingly good, given the time she waited. I would have been more fed up.

The same thing happened once to my housemate when I was living in Liverpool. It was in May or June. Back then, I didn't have a mobile phone (nearly ten years ago). I did not have to work that day (blessed time when I was in academia), but I had stopped at the workplace to gather some stuff. I had just walked in my office when the department's secretary told me someone was calling me urgently. It was my housemate, who had gone out and closed the door when nobody was inside and of course had forgotten not only her keys, but her mobile phone as well. She was calling from the retirement house next door. So I left the office without having done the things that I wanted and I took the journey home... to discover that she had been let in by another housemate, who had walked home early. So I missed my chance to be a knight in shining armour then, leaving my office for nothing. On the plus side, I had taken a healthy walk on the hills of Liverpool. And today's anecdote reminded me of this Liverpool memory.

L'escoufle

"Le ravissant Escoufle, à qui la queue sert 
De gouvernal fidele"

Guillaume du Bartas

Si ce tableau vous semble familier, c'est que vous l'avez déjà vu l'année dernière. Je n'aime guère le tableau pour être honnête, car il ne rend pas hommage à la beauté du rapace, mais je pensais qu'il fallait quelque chose pour illustrer mon sujet et comme les milans royaux sont difficiles à photographier pour l'amateur que je suis...

Enfin bref, alors que je faisais des recherches sur les milans royaux à cause de mon billet de vendredi, j'ai appris qu'ils avaient comme nom en ancien français: escoufle. Ce qui sonne pas mal plus joli. En plus, ça leur va mieux que milan royal. Escoufle est donc le mot du jour. Je vais maintenant l'appeler escoufle je crois, justement parce que ça sonne beaucoup mieux. Il y a une autre raison, plus bête: la citation plus haute de Guillaume du Bartas. Autant adopter les appellations utilisées par un homonyme. Alors donc, je vis dans un coin où il y a pleins d'escoufles.

Summer is coming...

I know I am paraphrasing a famous motto, but there are signs annunciation that Summer is near, or may be near anyway and that Springtime is . Here are some of them:

-May has been so far rather cool, especially for May, up until fairly recently, however things changed. It is now much warmer and they are forecasting temperatures of 20 and above this week.
-In fact, it is warm enough that we keep the windows open for most of the day... until wasps come in.
-The recurring visits of wasps is also a sure sign of summer, like spiders a sign of upcoming autumn.
-The sun goes down later and later in the evening. Nothing extraordinary in this, but still. It remains a sure reminder.
-The trees have changed from colourful blossiming to full of leafs green.

So there you have it. Not much to blog about I guess, but it struck me today.

La Fête des Mères

Parce qu'on a tous une mère, je rappelle à mes lecteurs, si jamais ils ont comme moi tendance à oublier, que c'est la Fête des Mères aujourd'hui. Et oui, j'ai pensé à appeler la mienne. J'oublie souvent parce que c'est à une date différente en Europe. Ou alors je souhaite bonne Fête des Mères à ma mère à une mauvaise date. Pas cette année. Sinon, la distance avec ma mère fait que je ne souligne pas la journée autant que je le devrais ou que je le ferais idéalement. En fait, je ne rappelle plus la dernière fois où j'ai vraiment célébré la Fête des Mères. Au moins, je le souligne ici.

Anything Goes

I uploaded this song from the great Cole Porter before and actually, the same interpretation by the great Ella Fitzgerald. I have decided to do upload it again, like I do sometimes with songs, partly because I love Anything Goes and mainly because my wife and I are going to see the musical of the same name this month. I am not the biggest fan of musicals, but I want to see stage productions more often this year and I love the music of Cole Porter, so I think I will enjoy this one tremendously. I truly discovered Cole Porter back in 1993-1994, when my mother received a CD set of his work at Christmas. I knew some of his songs, but it is only then that I really got into it. Mum was and is still a big fan. I don't think I ever listened to that much jazz than this winter. It will be nice to rediscover Cole Porter and see his work on stage, which will be a completely new experience for me.

Question existentielle (260)

Je ne crois pas avoir posé cette question avant. La voici:

-À quel moment le dimanche la mélancolie s'installe-t-elle et pourquoi?