Books

We do not know why...


...but wait a minute, what is that I see in his hand - could it be a B-O-O-K? Surely it is too small to be the comic album of Asterix or Gaston La Gaffe? I do believe the boy is reading!

I want to give hope to all you mothers of boys out there, reading can come, when you least expect it (like the Spanish Inquisition).

B has never read a book unless forced (although he has perused comic albums such as Asterix and Gaston La Gaffe) This even though his parents are Active and Enthousiastic Readers of Talent, and have stacked his shelves with books and filled his mind with eoncouragment. But he has never read a book unless forced. Until now. In typical B fashion he has gone from nil to serial reader - reading whole series of books in one week, persuading his father to order the next instalment from ebay and waiting impatiently for the post to arrive.

R, who has lost a playmate, is not pleased about this and accuses B of being a BORING OLD MOLE. He goads B in any way he knows how. B however has the ultimate goading position, semi-reclined on the sofa, managing to read and look down his nose at R at the same time.

I think the book on R's chest may be a counter-goad. I await the unfolding of the next act...

Sleight of Hand

B has suddenly sprouted long legs, he has the proportions of a gnat - with long feet.

He has abandoned collecting ring pulls and painting model soldiers to become a magician. Here he is in a video which he shot of himself. As you can see, he doesn't do the banter.




My favourite trick, which for some reason makes me laugh long and loud, is as follows:

He balances a Euro on his forehead, between his eyebrows.

'Can you do that?' he asks. If he is performing this trick to an adult they will more than likely answer, 'probably not', but a child can be guaranteed to shout' 'I can do that, yes I can do that let me have a go, let me have a go' at which point blank faced B hands over his Euro for them to have a go...it has a drawing pin sticking out of the back.
He has taught R the following trick: ask the person you are tricking to lend you two coins, 2 euro coins for example. Hold up one, and say 'one euro', then the other, 'one euro', with a flourish, slide the two coins together in one hand, and say 'One euro plus one euro makes two euros...now how many coins did you give me?'
'Two' says the victim, looking eagerly on.
'Oh thank you very much, I thought you were only lending them to me' (runs off with money).
B was thrilled to see ready-made tricks for sale at a brocante, the young man selling them had no need of them now that he had graduated from silver-tongued illusionist to student at a business college, say no more. For three euros apiece, B had tricks which wowed his schoolmates for many weeks, smaller boys trailed him, claiming in vain that they know how it's done.
B's career ambition, other than being a master magician, is to work at the bank like his father, and buy a flat near us, above a takeaway pizza joint so that he just has to go down and get one whenever he wants. Adolescence looms...

Swimming Lesson

R has been insisting that I organise swimming lessons for some time. Next school year the class will have swimming once a week, and he does not want to be the only one not yet a swimmer.

'But surely there are some others in the class who don't know how to swim?' I asked

'I don't know'

'Well what did they say when you told them you can't swim?'

At this R's face became rather pinched and he looked down and then he looked sideways, and then he looked the other sideways, and then he looked bashful.

It would seem R has told his colleagues not only that he can swim, but that he is a super good swimmer, a champion swimmer of the first order, hence his concern to start swimming lessons without delay.

Parents were not allowed in to watch the lesson, but R returned looking very pleased with himself but extremely shattered.

'Ooer it was quite hard' he said, shaking his head and blowing at this fringe.

It transpires he was not put in the non swimmers group, but the intermediate swimmers group. This is because when they asked him the following questions, he answered thus:

• Are you afraid of water? No
• Do you know how to breathe under water? Yes
• Can you swim? Yes
• Do you go swimming often Yes

None of which is true, apart from the one about not being afraid of water, although goodness knows why he isn't as last time he went 'swimming' he nearly drowned.
The swimming teacher cleverly tested the truth of these questions, but R managed to pass with flying colours. How?
He spent his first lesson perfecting breast-stroke.
'Weren't you scared?' I asked
'No, I have to learn quickly'. (If his sins are not to find him out). Which makes me wonder, if you are determined something is true, perhaps you can make it be true.

Hedgehog

JC leaves them the rind of the finest French cheeses, which they can sniff out from a long way off.

We have a mother tailed by 2 babies, and a baby which likes to go it alone, here pictured.

The children are very impressed because they have a bumbling mode which is very appealing, but when roused raise themselves up on long legs and shoot into the distance.

A proud moment for the Pride of India tree, which needs a hot summer for its flowers to develop.

Our exotic fruit tree fruits for the first time, it flowered in January. Our neighbour told us there are many of these trees in Portugal and the fruit are good, so we cut some down and ate them, like a mixture between an apricot, plum and sharon fruit, declared DELICIOUS!

African Trumpet Vine trumpets

No More School

Yes, it's over. The last soft drinks party has been held, the floor swept, the chairs stacked on the tables, the beautiful blackboard drawings wiped off, ready for a new design, in a new classroom, for a new school year. Already.

Farm

R and his class spent five days on the farm, a corner of paradise knows as Domaine de St Laurant, near Cluny. The farm is organic, (biodynamic), and self sufficient, for example, they grow the wheat, grind the wheat into flour and bake it into bread, milk the cows & make the cheese, chop the wood for heating and ovens.

Milking the cows 6am

Pulling the plough, Donkey time

Mucking out the pigs, making cheese, chopping wood

Churning the butter, which wouldn't melt in his mouth







Making & baking the bread

Planting

And here is how it seemed to me when R came back, in French, and then in English:

R est de retour
Pieds plantés sur terre, enracinés
Tète au soleil, cheveux éclaircis, joues couleur terre légèrement cuites
Un œil très clair
Il me raconte pendant deux heures
Tout ce qui lui est arrivé à la ferme
Il n'attend pas ma réponse
Car il est toujours là-bas
Il me dit avec une grande simplicité
Qu'il est en meilleur santé à la ferme
Où l'air est pur et la nourriture
Vient directement de la terre, du soleil, et de beaucoup de travail

Il m'amène de la terre sous chacun de ses ongles et ses doigts de pieds
Il me réserve quelques larmes qui ne tombaient pas là-bas
Il est dur de prendre un bain quand on n'est pas du tout fatigué

Je plonge mon nez parmi ses cheveux
J'inhale l'odeur de l'air ensoleillé et
Du calme, et d'une grande harmonie des âmes
Il a gagné en une semaine 3 millimètres d'une dent qui en partant
N'avait pas encore brisé la gencive
J'ai perdu un petit peut de mon fils
Il a gagné un petit peu plus
De la personne qu'il est en train de devenir

R is back

Fleet planted deep in the earth, and rooted

Head in the sun,

Hair bleached, cheeks with a touch of terracotta

Eyes very bright.

He tells me all about the farm

for two hours,

not waiting for my response,

as he is still there.

He says quite simply

That he is more healthy there,

Where the air is pure

and the food comes from the soil, the sun, and much hard work.

He brings me soil, under each fingernail and each toenail

And saves me some tears, which he did not let fall over there

It is very hard to have a bath before bedtime

When you are NOT AT ALL TIRED.

I bury my nose in his hair and breathe in deeply,

the smell of sunny air, and calm, and a great harmony of souls

His front tooth, which had not pierced the gum when he left

has grown three millimetres in one week

I have lost a little bit of my son

He has gained a little bit more

of the person he is becoming

Fete Fete Fete

Yes pop pickers the party season continues:

The end of term show. Somewhat nerve-racking as B claimed after the dress rehearsal that his class show is truly terrible, nothing more than total humiliation on front of the whole school. Once he was safely out of earshot I asked the girls in the car what they think - perhaps B was feeling overly sensitive.

'PPWAAAH, ppsss - the worst sketch we have ever seen' they replied, unamimous (although L was kind enough to say the decorations were nice).

However, on the day, the influence of parental prayers or some other miracle caused the event to go well, the teacher's faith was restored and B begrudgingly admitted it was ok.

The municipal picnic in the park - the Marie (local council) provides the tables, we come with our food and friends, and at 11pm, FIREWORKS. B's friend D is staying the night. We find a spot on the banks of the Seine and lie down on a blanket, musing about stars, shooting stars and constellations. A tug boat has pulled a platform out onto the far side of the Seine, at 11.19 pm the tug boat chugs off, and the show begins. The rockets dive deep into the water, some disappear, some reappear and charge to the surface, and dandelion clocks of undreamed of colours and lights widen and widen above our heads. Home after midnight yet again.

Shared lunch at the chapel, then home for the last three days of term:

St John at school, bring a small log

Visit to the local fire station

Visit to museum of music

Visit to museum of plants

School picnic

B does magic show for his class

My neighbours are, as I write, charring food in the garden and shouting loudly, it is nearly midnight.

And then, and then, watch out, July is coming, and once the school holidays begin...

NOTHING HAPPENS!

crash