Fire Flower

I've just heard on Radio 4 that Wilko Johnson (from 70s band Dr Feelgood) is dying of pancreatic cancer, he has nine months to live, twelve if he accepts treatment which he doesn't.  Instead he is going on a farewell tour.  He describes how knowing he is dying has shaken him up into feeling alive, he says "...just walking down the street you really feel alive, you see every little thing and feel every cold breeze against your face, every brick in the road, there it is."

As young womanhood draws to an end, I become aware of the intensity of life within life, and of what went before and what is to come...here are my thoughts in the secret night, dedicated to women of a certain age (and before, and beyond).

Fire Flower

Forty-nine, time decreed

Fire awakened

From its bulb deep in the heart of life

Grew a thick trunk in mine

Flowered in my face.

Red petals cup my chin

Red petals touch my cheek

Heat rolls and unrolls

In the secret night

In the sage day

In the secret night I lie

In the glorious bright bright

Of life and life within life

Tears of marvel

Tears of gratitude

Run helpless into the fire

And sizzle

In the sage day I stand

At the stake

As the blood boils

And it burns away;

Attention wanted and unwanted

The hunt and the hunted

The role enforced and fallen upon

The giving and the taken

The beauty

The duty and the rage

The water gives up its hold and its bonds

Is released into the sky

In the sage day I stand

At the stake

Look into my eyes

I stare out pure and sharp

Here I am

All that is behind this life of woman

All that went before

And will continue to be

(now there's a curious thing, a bug in the system has made AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE double sized on my 'view'...)

Snowballs; the truth

R has just confessed that he was indeed one of the ones who snowballed the headmistress,  Mrs Scruton, although 'somebody else' went for the 'head shot'.

I warned him that it could backfire if he is caught on the security camera.

R explained that when the Headmistress, Mrs Scruton, saw all the pupils having fun in the snow and charging the taped-off areas, so she came charging out of her office waving her Detention Book and shouting Detention Detention Detention, and it was at this point that she disappeared under a pile of snowballs, from which we learn that the Detention Book- form of discipline (mot dans le carnet) does not work for riots.

He also confessed that he was 'convoked' to see the 'Punishment Officer' because I had forgotten to fill in a ticket to say that he was ill, (careless careless careless, however I DID phone the school to say he was off sick,  spoke to the teacher in person whilst collecting the school report, and spoke to her by phone the second day he was sick as she felt the need to check up on me even though I had warned her the day before he was likely to be off the following day and even after I thanked her profusely for her show of personal care and gave her a long description of his ills when all she wanted was to tick her box which gave me a slight frisson of sadistic pleasure,  from this you will see can see trust and common sense are not on the agenda).

 R thinks being called in front of the punishment officer is a wheeze and can do some amusing impersonations.   The 'Punishment Officer' made all sorts of insinuations about R, such as had he not arranged to be off sick 'with his friends'?.  I feel pretty certain that this has given R some ideas.

(Aside:  had to change the title on this one, the original, snowballing the headmistress, has resulted in 38 view from the USA, is this some kind of fetish that I haven't heard of?)

School Report

I didn't get time to write this up in the Christmas rush, but here is the report on R's school report.

I dressed myself in a hat pulled down and a scarf pulled up and went to the school with trepidation in my heart and the words of R ringing in my ears:  "Just agree with everything they say and don't say anything".

(I was forced to venture into the school and make cursory contact with a teacher because they do not let the pupils take home their own reports and must verify that the document in question has passed safely into the hands of the parent/guardian).

The teacher was young and charming and seemed perfectly pleased about R.  She asked me if I had any questions.  I said that the full set of scores was admirably presented on Pronote the marking website,  thank you very much.

For the sake of balance, she pointed out that he was a bit "fragile"  in French.  Controlling myself admirably, I asked her what she meant by this.  She meant that the calculation of his marks added up to an 'avarage' score of 9 out of 20.  I asked her why this was.  She did not know.  I asked her what the French teacher had said about him.  She said she had not spoken to the French teacher.   So I gave her my interpretation and went a bit off track on the failings of the French Education System (shut up shut up shut up) and how hard it was for him to start at a school he had never been allowed to visit and with no-one to show him round (shut up shut up), predicted that R Will Do Better Next Time and that I counted on the school to let me know if there was a problem or anything else I should be doing.  She agreed, and said that it was not noticeable that R was new to the school or the system.  Which just goes to show what a trusty and hardy invididual R is.

I soon realised that R is quite right;  they do not go in for individual attention or care at all.    As long as the scores are adequate, sickness absence and bad behaviour are within the norms, the boxes are ticked and everything is generally ticking along tickety boo there won't be any trouble.

Left feeling quite relieved.  R has a General Avarage of 16 out of 20, which is Jolly Good, our team effort has paid off.

School jinks

After overhearing a few heated phone conversations it has become clear to me that R has a homework scam going.  One night it is his turn to do the homework, and transmit the results by phone to his friend, the next night the friend does the homework and transmits by phone to R.  Sometimes the phone calls take place within minutes of leaving for school on the morning that the homework is due.

What are the moral issues?  For the most part, the homework which is set could be done by a robot, contains no trace of individuality or originality, is an exercise in absolute obedience and a question of right or wrong one-pointed answers which is mind-numbingly tedious to do and doesn't teach you anything.

I've decided to think of this as a healthy display of native cunning in a mad world, a coping strategy, a prolongued trust exercise...learning to deal with stress.

However, the cooperative relationship is clearly tainted, yesterday morning (while he was putting on his coat) some pretty heavy blackmail was being applied by telephone (you only get the maths if I get the picture).  He only just made it under the fence.

I asked R:  "Don't you feel tired and stressed living this life of last minute deception?"

He huffed a bit, then he turned to me and smiled;  "No, I like it, it makes the blood circulate".

Oh dear.

Raclette!

It's winter, in France it is the season of La Raclette, and serious French families equip themselves with one of these:

Non-stick raclette set with top grilling option

La raclette is Cook's Delight because not only is it easy to prepare, but like barbecues, it seems to be a male domain.

Males involved in food preparation

To buy:   Raclette cheese ready sliced (take care to get unpasteurised if possible and check for ferocious list of  E numbers, not necessary, not healthy and not a good sign), selection of charcuterie (such as cooked ham from Paris,  raw ham from Bayonne, saucisson, or salami, mortadella ham (Italian Spam) whatever takes your fancy (vegetarians, those with high cholesterol, weep).   Some good organic potatoes which can be cooked in skin.

Note bubbling cheese in triangular receptacle, to the left, wooden scrapers, spuds in saucepan bottom right and cheese and charcuterie on its way towards being prettily arranged...(and small glass of organic Chardonnay)

Method:
Get someone to cut rind off the cheese slices and arrange prettily on a plate, and someone else to open  the charcuterie and arrange prettily on a plate.  Boil potatoes in skin and serve in cooking pan (yes!).  Persuade someone to get non-stick raclette set out of the cupboard and clean off dust.  Turn on.  Invite members of family to put their own cheese slice in the triangular receptacle provided, insert it under grill, and when bubbling remove, scrape out with wooden scraper on top of boiled potatoes and charcuterie of choice.  Voila, as the French say.

Advice for Feeding Birds

I have never seen the birds so hungry, a mountain of sunflower seeds was moved in a day.  It's been a bad season for berries and seeds.  My mother said that in the cold winter of '63 half of all British birds died.

I am moved to act, I love to watch the birds feed.   In the snow they are all puffed up and round.

I asked some advice on how best to feed the birds in the cold weather, from my mum, lifelong member of the RSPB and sensible cove:

Blackbirds and soft bills like fruit – manky apples cut in half as some don’t seem to know how to get through the skin or you can spike them onto branches

Shelled sunflower seed for those who cannot cling like tits,  whole sunflower for the tits (I suppose they will go for the shelled ones if they have the choice)

Good quality seeds for birds (cheap ones mainly wheat which almost nobody eats)

Leftover bread (wholegrain if poss) dipped in sunflower oil (fat helps to keep warm)

Leftover culinary seeds and dried fruits

Thawed water

Dining at our table so far this winter:  crowds of chaffinches, flying visits from gangs of starlings and greenfinches (all of which we don't usually see), dear old sparrows, great and blue tits, robin, jenny wren, collared doves...

Snow FrenchSchool-Style

Take one small prison yard, 600 pupils and 10 centimetres of snow, and what do you get?

Yesterday R came home from school, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright with past glories and an irrepressable small smile on his face:

"School was AWESOME..."  (I hate this word but I report it as it was told).

"...There was the greatest ever snowball fight.  They put up barriers and sprayed the area with salt and water and said we could not go there...the barriers were all smashed, Everyone went everywhere..."

I said:  "What about the people who did not want to join in a snowball fight?"

"They all huddled together under a small shelter so they were an easy target.  Even the headmistress got one in the face (wheezes with laughter).    In the end they had to spray everything with salt and water..."

He lies back on the sofa,  licks his lips, closes his eyes and grins in post-vent ecstacy.

Wild Snowmancat

Wild Snowmancat at dawn
With solid ice bowl brimming with snow
Created by artists
Aged 15, 17 and 18

Real cat, lightly traumatised
Appears on the scene
Wild!