Storms of Delight

100_0377I awoke to the roaring of a savage sea hurling itself onto the rocks below. The window is always open so that I can hear the sea.

Looking out, it was a grey wolf sea, with a steel-grey haze obliterating the islands that hover on the horizon. White capped rollers raced in across cruel grey and glacier- green water, and when the waves hit the rocks spilled over in sheets of white foam blowing high in the air. Low tide is almost more spectacular than high tide, because the water hits the rocks instead of flowing over most of them.

 Later, I put on a hood and jacket and walked out into the storm. The wind was thrashing the trees and making much the same sound as the roaring sea. First I walked to the garden of some friends overlooking the little harbour. It’s usually like a shining green jewel set deep in high rock and forested walls. It was calm, the only sign of the storm being the muddy-looking water.

 These friends own the goats and are away overseas for some weeks, so I pocketed the lemons lying under the tree. It was only a little tree, but had been so nurtured and well fed, that where one lemon would normally hang, between five and ten weighted down each fragile branch. The scent of the blossom still growing swirled round the tree before flying in the wind.

 As I walked down their long drive, between two rows of palm trees, three little speckled red hens came running out of a nearby garden, and solemnly picked their way behind me in single file. I felt like turning round to stroke them, but they weren’t keen on this. The way they followed me reminded me of Konrad Lorenz’s imprinted geese, and I hoped these little hens weren’t busy imprinting themselves on me. They gave up in the end, and returned home to where their supper was awaiting them in the hands of a pretty girl in a cream poncho.

 Strolling back in the flying rain I walked down the cul de sac to say hello to the three goats, and give them a little leafy, twiggy treat. Robert, the grumpy old billy- goat, would keep dropping his mouthful in order to snatch the little darlings’ twigs from their mouths. So I had to do a dodgy dance to try to fend him off while the babies managed an uninterrupted munch for a few minutes.

 As I turned round to come home, I heard a piteous whine. It was Zeb, the black and white pointer who lives opposite the goats, and sometimes escapes to come and see me. She had her head to the fence, hoping I’d come and say hello to her too. Of course I did, and while I was doing so, Kate, her owner, came out and asked if I’d like some new-laid eggs. Would I? So when Zeb and I had finished our tete- a- tete, I returned home the delighted carrier of six fresh eggs.

 I laid them carefully with the glowing yellow lemons on the garden seat at the top of the steps, and continued my wander in the storm. We live on a tiny peninsula sticking out into the sea, our house facing one way, and on the other side of the little neck of land, the old village graveyard faces out to sea in the other direction. Beneath spreading trees, it holds the graves of the earliest settlers in this place, and the latest inhabitants.

 I walked on the wet grass between the graves, heading for the end of the cemetery where it ends in a deep crevasse where the sea throws itself against this neck of land. Here I look down on a flat rock fifty feet below. The seas crash over it in rough weather, or lap against the sides on calm days, revealing tempting still green depths and white rock below the waterline, where I’d love to swim if I could get down there. Today it was almost invisible beneath thick sheets of green water swirling over it and spumes of foam flying through the air.

As I stood looking down here, as I so often do, I realised that every time I come here, I think of Pincher Martin, and William Golding’s description of hell. Pincher Martin scrabbling desperately to escape the raging seas, and clinging onto the slippery rock and slipping back down again into the tormenting cauldron of murderous waves… over and over again … not a pleasant remembrance, and one I try to banish, but it always comes back … just as I never see the spire of Salisbury Cathedral, in the flesh or in pictures, without thinking of Golding’s ‘The Spire’ and his painful story of spiritual disintegration. Thank goodness I’ve avoided reading ‘The Lord of the Flies’, as I know I would be tormented by that too.

Today, the wind crashing through the old pohutakawa trees – which were probably growing here when my hero, Captain James Cook sailed past in 1769 – was bringing down lots of small twigs and gnarly broken branches. When they’re dry they’re wonderful to start the fire with, and the peasant in me can’t resist gathering bundles. This was a successful foray and I returned home with a big armful of wet branches and twigs to dry out in the garage. Pohutakawa trees grow to the size of a good oak tree, and have dark green, hard, crunchy leaves all the year round. They’re sometimes called the New Zealand Christmas tree because at Christmas they’re smothered in flaming red blossom, and here, where the whole coast is ringed with them, they are a unique sight.

 And so back home to a blazing log fire, with the haunting and tender sounds of Handel’s opera Julius Caesar still ringing through my head. I went to see it for the second time in three days yesterday, five hours of it, and would see it again – and again, if it was available. Today I Googled Caesar and Cleopatra, since I only knew of Anthony and Cleopatra. And yes, Handel hadn’t messed around with history, Caesar and Cleopatra had had a love affair, she had borne his only son, and she stayed with him in Rome until his assassination.

 So well before her alliance with Mark Anthony, she had loved Caesar, and he her.Knowing this made the exquisite songs of their love affair in opera seem even more poignant.Cleopatra inveigled her way into Caesar’s presence rolled up in a carpet, and in the opera sang a song of enchantment for him. I read somewhere that Cleopatra’s glorious song to Caesar:  “v’adoro pupille” (I adore you, eyes,) is the most seductive love song ever written. I can believe it. In Natalie Dessay’s version she didn’t seduce, she poured out her heart. It was beautiful.

 And this life seems so beautiful too, with all its gifts and grace notes, allusive thoughts and memories, the stormy seas and wild winds, the hens and the goats, the centuries of music and aeons of love, the lemons, the eggs and the firewood!

 

Food for Threadbare Gourmets

 The pantry was bare. So I made a treat I haven’t made for years – cheese aigrettes. All I needed were things like eggs, flour, and grated Parmesan which I always have in the deep freeze. So into a saucepan went two oz butter and half a pint of water. When boiling I added 4 oz flour and stirred hard until the whole mixture was coming away from the sides of the saucepan, leaving it clean.

 Off the heat I mixed in 3oz Parmesan and two egg yolks, beating them in separately. Add salt and pepper, and then fold in the stiffly whisked egg whites.That’s the easy part. When the mixture is cold, drop small rough pieces, about a teasp size or bigger, into hot fat. Don’t fry too quickly or the outside will brown before it’s cooked inside. But if the fat is too cold, the aigrettes will become greasy. It takes about four minutes for  each batch to cook.

Fish them out with a slotted spoon onto some kitchen paper to drain, and serve with grated parmesan sprinkled over, and a dash of cayenne pepper. With salad, they’re crunchy, filling and delicious.

 Food for Thought

 Life, for all its agonies of despair and loss and guilt, is exciting and beautiful, amusing and artful and endearing, full of liking, and of love, at times a poem and a high adventure, at times noble and at times very gay; and whatever (if anything) is to come after it, we shall not have this life again.

From Towers of Trebizond by Rose Macaulay English novelist 1881 – 1958

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

81 Comments

Filed under books, cookery/recipes, culture, environment, great days, happiness, life/style, literature, love, spiritual, The Sound of Water, Thoughts on writing and life, Uncategorized, village life

81 responses to “Storms of Delight

  1. haehan

    Amazing about all you see on the shore–and the New Zealand Christmas Trees–never heard of that in Kansas.

    But if you didn’t know about Caesar and Cleopatra, you missed the movie with Rex Harrison, Liz Taylor, Richard Burton. I think this is when the affair between Burton and Taylor startted.

    Like

    • Thank you so much for reading and commenting…
      good to hear from you…
      The film you’re referring to was Anthony and Cleopatra, whose love affair started four years after Caesar’s assassination, and yes, you’re right, this was when Elizabeth Taylor left Eddie Fisher, and Burton left his wife Sybil, I think she was, to begin their relationships…best wishes…

      Like

  2. What exactly does “aigrettes” mean? Sounds like a recipe you need a teacher to show you for eatable results.

    Like

    • Well what they are, are lovely light cheesy balls, crisp on the outside, soft inside. No, you don’t need a teacher!
      I got the recipe years ago from Mrs Beaton’s old Victorian cookery book, and as my stepmother used to say – if you can read, you can cook!!

      Like

  3. My two favorite operas, Handel’s Giulio Cesare and Antonín Dvorak’s Rusalka, which we just saw In Prague. My husband in a major opera buff. I have sat through Wagner’s entire ring in Bayreuth! Jim wants to again next year. I’ll do one cycle. Your description of the sea, locale, and history, are mesmerizing.

    Like

    • I envy you the Bayreuth experience – how amazing – an opera lover’s dream come true, even though I’m not a Wagner devotee … but some things have to be experienced!
      I did sit through the Met’s Ring Cycle, and have just seen Parsifal, but like you I love the Baroque Julius Caesar, in fact any Handel operas, and most other Baroque ones. I love counter tenors, for a start, and anything Handel wrote for seconds!
      The Met is doing Rusalka with Renee Fleming next season, can’t wait !
      Your roving cultural life sounds amazing…I just have to make the most of village life !

      Like

  4. With your love of wind and storm and sea, and Captain Cook, perhaps you are a sailor at heart?

    Like

  5. Well, if you had been with me on various long sea journeys and saw me lying wanly on deck in a deck-chair, longing for the journey to end, and the sea sickness to be over, you wouldn’t ask !!!
    Mind you, Nelson also suffered from sea sickness very time he put to sea…so it may not totally disqualify me.!!…

    Like

  6. Isabella Rose

    Oh, Valerie, I was walking with you in the storm…every step of the way. What a marvellous experience! My heart stirred within me with a deep yearning. You are a wonderful writer…you bring your stories to life for me.

    Like

    • Thank you, Isabella Rose ( do you use both beautiful names???) So glad you enjoyed it, and saw what I saw… which is what happens when I see your wonderful interpretations of places…

      Like

  7. Nice images of the sea. Wish I was there!

    Like

  8. Dear Valerie,

    I’m humbled by your writing. From my land-locked, Midwest USA home I hear the waves crashing against the rocks. Your images are so vivid I could smell the lemons and feel the smooth egg-shells in my hand.

    shalom,

    Rochelle

    Like

    • Dear Rochelle,
      Thank you for your lovely words of appreciation.. and I loved your words about the lemons and the egg shells…. the little things are so ravishing, aren’t they !
      So looking forward to knowing more about you, Valerie

      Like

      • Dear Valerie,

        Although I’ve met you through Doug’s eyes and your comments on his stories, I’m looking forward to getting to know you through my own eyes.
        I’ll second the motion on A Soldier of the Great War. Doug talked me into reading it. It took me six months due to hectic schedules, but it was worth the read. It’s a book I never would’ve picked up on my own and I’m grateful to our friend for the noodge.
        As I near the age of 60 I feel that I’m preparing a new and exciting chapter in my personal renaissance.
        Our time differences have us at different points on the clock, don’t they. Seems one of us is saying good morning at the other’s evening. My turn. “Good morning, Valerie. A pleasure to be in your company.”

        Shalom,

        Rochelle

        Like

      • Good evening Rochelle,
        haven’t answered your lovely message earlier, as this week I’ve been a train wreck… slightly cleared some of the wreckage by going out to dinner, and am now well dined and wined, and fit to reply!!!
        Maybe I should have ferreted out your e-mail to reply to this… Yes, I’m getting onto ABE Books for Mark Helprin’s book – I’ve stopped using Amazon,. as this and the Book Depository are much cheaper and more efficient – do you use them ?
        I know when I start it, I’ll finish it slightly more quickly than you did – I can’t put a book down until I’ve finished it!
        How lovely for you that you’re approaching sixty with plenty of time in front of you to do so much… I had a funny conversation with someone today, in which I said I was sad that I would never have time now to have all the different dogs I’d love – a pair of Irish wolf-hounds, dalmations, Staffordshire bull terriers, bulldogs, a long haired dachshunds, and some more Cavalier King Charles spaniels, and she laughed and said I could have something like that on my tombstone -‘ these are the dogs she never had.’.. !!
        and so good-night from New Zealand, Valerie

        Like

      • Good morning, Valerie, from Midwest USA.

        I do still use Amazon but after a book I had sent to Doug for his birthday didn’t make it there until a month after the fact, I’m a bit disenchanted.
        Perspective is everything. Your comment that at approaching 60 I have so much ahead of me struck me. I’ve been looking at is as old and wishing I’d known in my youth what I know now. At any rate, I’m excited about traveling new pathways and, somewhat, content with my life.
        I’ve had a few dogs and loved them like children. Cats, too.
        With lifestyle being what it is, my husband and I don’t have the time to give to a pet.

        Shalom,

        Rochelle

        Like

  9. Dearest Valerie,

    There are two writers in the world i am envious of. The first is Mark Helprin, who wrote A Soldier of the Great War. The second is you. Perhaps you believe yourself to be an ordinary blogger plodding along as you write but nothing could be farther from the truth. Your writng is rapturous and the result in my mind is peace. I love the places you take me.

    Aloha,

    Doug Hel

    Like

    • Oh Doug, I feel quite overwhelmed at the things you say – you know well how valuable another writer’s appreciation is, and your words are such a gift.
      You used the word I was feeling when I wrote this piece – rapturous – and it’s so satisfying that that’s what you received and felt too…And I do find it amazing that writing what I love, seems to resonate with some others…as well as you, my perceptive and peace- full dear friend.
      You can only have peace in your heart to feel it as you do, and I love you for it..
      I shall be tracking down Mark Helprin’s book, the Great War (which is what my grandmother used to call it) is one of my deep interests…
      With love,
      Valerie

      Like

    • Dear Doug, I’ve been googling your favourite book, and now can’t wait to get my hands on it. I found this sentence, and it made such sense to me why you love this book,. And it also made sense to me where I’m at in my life at the moment :
      :”And yet if you asked me what [the truth] was, I can’t tell you. I can tell you only that it overwhelmed me, that all the hard and wonderful things of the world are nothing more than a frame for a spirit, like fire and light, that is the endless roiling of love and grace. I can tell you only that beauty cannot be expressed or explained in a theory or an idea, that it moves by its own law, that it is God’s way of comforting His broken children.”
      Thinking of you…

      Like

  10. (And please delete the ‘Hel’ I pushed along ahead of the text in my comment. And then this, too. WordPress is misbehaving. Mahalo, D.)

    Like

  11. I love the sound of the sea … and a rough sea is even more special. I used to live near the ocean, and with every storm I’d head down to spend some time watching the crashing waves. Your descriptions took me back those years …. what a lovely way to start the day.

    Like

    • Hello Kathie
      Good to hear from you… ocean waves are wonderful aren’t they…. there are so many different ways the sea plays on the coasts, and long beaches are so different to rocks and coves…
      Glad you enjoyed the post…..

      Like

  12. sv

    Beautifully described ,(grey wolf sea , “swirled round the tree before flying in the wind” ) where the description fills one with a longing for the place.

    Like

    • Thank you so much… as you’d know, writers love people to notice things, and it’s fascinating to see which bits strike a chord with different people… I love it that you enjoyed the description…

      Like

  13. Elly

    Wonderfully vivid writing Valerie, thank you so much. I have a secret belief that there are two kinds of people – those who can’t bear rain and storms because they are frightening or inconvenient (or just plain wet)… and those who adore them… Like you I feel excited and awed by the power and harsh beauty of storms, especially if I’m by the sea. I love to walk in the wild weather too and hear the crashing waves. So bracing and life-affirming.

    Like

  14. I love it when I find one of your posts in my inbox! Fabulous seascapes painted in your inimitable words, a mention of one of my favourite novels, Lord of the Flies (the prose is wonderful, the characterisation, remarkable although, yes, the story is hard.)
    Lemons too and Christmas trees that grow their own decorations and then a wonderful phrase which I shall add to my collection. When people tell me that they can’t sing, I tell them the African saying ‘If you can walk, you can dance. If you can talk, you can sing’ and I shall now add, ‘If you can read, you can cook!’

    Thanks again.

    Like

    • Hell sally, what a delicious comment!
      I always love your observations…You would have wonderful weather where you are I expect… though I hope you’re having a good summer…
      Yes, I know that not reading Lord of the Flies is a real gap in my education, but I’m just not strong enough!!!’
      When I was worrying that I couldn’t cook when I was getting married, that’s what my stepmother said – waving the whole thing away ! And she was right !

      Like

  15. Valerie, you bring me to and with you. A great walk with the high winds of a glorious storm. If we were neighbours, I’d have to discipline myself from over-begging you to join me for walks. Thank you for exquisite descriptions. No sense neglected!

    As a thank you, I hope this will be a gift: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PegUTp9ydKk

    Like

    • Dear Amy, thank you so much for your little gift… I have to confess that it’s rarely been off my screen for the last week since I discovered it – and also David Daniels striding magnificently about the stage with his wonderful areas…
      I bet you saw it too, did you?
      So glad you enjoyed my little rave – I’d love to have you for a walking partner – I walk alone here !!!

      Like

  16. This is my picture of paradise…your post described it beautifully 🙂
    It’s the weather I love to be in when I’m at the beach but rocks make it all the more spectacular.
    I have lately, been using “you tube” videos of wave sounds for reading, writing and even helping myself to relax and two of them were so beautiful I had to post them one of the Carribean’s white beaches and another in California.
    Enjoy every precious moment of your surroundings, it’s a true gift to experience it, appreciate it (some can’t SEE) and be able to share it with others and spread the beauty further.
    Thanks!

    Like

    • Lovely to hear from you, and so glad you enjoyed it…The sound of water is so relaxing isn’t it… which I suppose is why they always have those lovely plashing fountains in Moorish gardens…
      Your videos sound lovely… yes, soaking up beauty is one way of handling a fairly stressful life !!!

      Like

  17. Lovely! I found that I walked with you hither and yon…so delightful! I may never get to visit, but I do get to ‘see’ where you live and feel the land under my feet and soar with the spirit of your ancient land.

    As for Caesar and Cleopatra I have read many accounts…in my humble opinion they really did love each other, although, her leaving of Anthony was much more dramatic and his departure from her the same.

    I would love to see your native Christmas trees, oh, please do take a photo this next Christmas!

    Thank you so much, Valerie

    Linda
    http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com

    Like

    • Ah LInda… it would be lovely to walk with you here… I will certainly take a photo at Christmas… I hadn’t mastered my camera last Christmas – not that I’ve mastered it yet either !!
      Yes, I’ve found myself fascinated by the drama of Caesar and Cleopatra…
      Hope the weather’s a bit cooler, now, and the chaps are coping with the heat… the fires are terrible… so sad…

      Like

  18. That was a most enjoyable storm ramble with you.
    Fond as I am of his music, I’m not sure how I’d Handel five straight hours of it. Probably not too well, because I am more into instrumental stuff.

    Like

    • Glad you enjoyed it ! you must have some magnificent storms yourself….
      I would have agreed with you about Handel when I was younger, but I’ve developed a passion for opera in the last few years, so it actually wasn’t long enough !!!

      Like

  19. Once again being swept into your world I was at once envious and thrilled. I will never look at a sea again without thinking up special superlatives! Yes, you do make a beautiful life out of yours. Thanks for the recipe. Sounds delicious!

    Like

  20. Hello Lesley – lovely hear from you,,, and delighted that you enjoyed my stormy ramble ! Hope you enjoy the cheesy treat !!!

    Like

  21. Vivid description of hell… I’ve never thought of the sea like that before, but I can see how that would have come about! To me, it sounds like heaven 😉

    Like

  22. With your words, I walk with you in the storm. See what you see, smell the blossoms of the lemon trees. You transport with your words. I am always and constantly transported and in awe.

    Like

    • Val – thank you. I love it that you enjoyed it… sharing the pleasure is half the fun, and I’ve had three, enjoying the storm, writing about it, and sharing it with lovely people like you !!!

      Like

  23. Luanne

    Oh my, Valerie, what a splendid description. You carried me with you on your walk through the storm. You make where you live sound like a realistic paradise. Then the gifts you came home with: the lemons, the eggs. It will be with me all day. As for the aigrettes: I’ve never heard of them, and I would try this recipe if it weren’t for the flour, but my husband has celiac disease so I usually cook gluten free so he can eat it. I wonder how crucial to the recipe is wheat flour or if it could be made with a GF all-purpose flour with rice flour as the main ingredient. Not that you can answer that question . . . .

    Like

    • Hello Luanne, Lovely to see your smiling face in the comments – so glad you enjoyed the storm too !!!

      As to the cheese aigrettes, I would think you could make them gluten free as you suggest.. do you use some sort of raising agent?

      Like

  24. I’m on a road trip and am sporadically responding to posts, but I must tell you, Valarie, how much your description of the storm, the raging sea and your calm presence during all this brought such peace to me. You mentioned the peasant girl in you, a perfect description of the storms of delight, a gift from the sea and your little peninsula. Like Alarna, I the sea is not hell to me, but I suppose if I were waiting for a rescue, I might think differently.

    Like

  25. Lynne, how amazing that you have time to read and send a comment while you’re on the road – thank you so much. And so glad you enjoyed the storm, it’s hardly possible to believe it happened , it was so blue and calm and peaceful today !
    Enjoy your travels…look forward to hearing about them…

    Like

  26. I relished the wild weather, and all the other delicious experiences you conjured up for us in this post, along with you Valerie – you are such a fine writer. Thank you!

    Like

  27. Love the description of the wolf grey sea! And Zeb sounds just like the sort of dog I could easily fall in love with. Thanks, Valerie, for sharing your amazing storm experience.

    Like

  28. Valerie, I so enjoy your writing! Thank you for sharing your world and bringing sunshine into my life. . .
    http://catnipoflife.wordpress.com/2013/07/05/a-summer-bouquet-blossoming-with-awards/

    Like

  29. Amy

    I, too, enjoy reading the wolf grey sea; as if I could hear the sea… Thank you so much for the Food for Thought. Have a wonderful day, Valerie!

    Like

  30. I’ve never heard the expression a ‘ grey wolf sea’ before – I like it a lot!

    Like

  31. Beautiful writing, Valerie – lyrically descriptive and full of motion and lovely details … especially about the goats and chickens! You obviously live in a lovely lovely place, geographically and creatively. Loved all of it, and, also, want to thank you for your recent visits to my blog. All the best, Diane

    Like

    • Thank you so much for reading and commenting, so glad you enjoyed it… looking forward to seeing more of your blog…

      Like

    • – Great Job Mary!My father was a phogtorapher. It was his hobby, and I was his subject. I understand the joy of new gadgets and new techniques. I look forward to your thoughts on lighting, mood and tricks ! Much success to you-

      Like

  32. You are a storyteller from the beginning… beautiful!

    “The planet does not need more ‘successful people’. The planet desperately needs more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of all kinds. It needs people to live well in their places. It needs people with moral courage willing to join the struggle to make the world habitable and humane and these qualities have little to do with success as our culture is the set. ” Dalai Lama

    Like

  33. I keep forgetting that it’s winter in NZ! I wish you had taken a photo of the sea, I love the way the water looks in storms. Makes you respect sailors, and men like Captain Cook, all the more when you realize how unforgiving that ocean is. I remember when I first learned about Caesar and Cleopatra, I was really surprised—I thought it all started and ended with Marc Antony, but clearly not!

    Like

  34. Yes, I thought the same about Caesar and Cleopatra, and was so surprised by the real story I couldn’t resist writing the next post- ‘their many splendoured thing !!!
    I’m still not good enough with a camera to take the photos I should… need more instruction from my grand-daughter!!!

    Like

  35. Pingback: Two blogs I like | bottledworder

  36. Valerie, I love Pincher Martin and have never come across anyone else who feels for it as I do, until reading this luminous post (which I came to at the recommendation of Bottledworder). I have taught it at least twice, and no one has ever heard of it. But I like it so much better than Lord of the Flies, which I could hardly bear to read (and am glad you didn’t). That image haunts me, of his clinging on and clinging on, when all along he needn’t have (but I don’t want to spoil it for others). Your description of walking out into the storm and your neighbors’ green jewel of a garden is so evocative. If it weren’t for the mosquitoes I would walk out into the night right now! Thank you.

    Like

  37. Josna, how lovely to find this comment… I know how you feel about Pincher Martin, I too have never found anyone else who’s read it! Have you read The Spire? I’ve read that many times, and never fail to find it hugely shocking… the awful and shaming inner deterioration of a man…
    So glad you enjoyed the storm too – as you rightly say, writing is about sharing with the reader, and that’s part of the satisfaction…

    Like

    • I have read The Spire, Valerie (although v. long ago, though, as an undergrad, along with Pincher Martin and Free Fall) and it was very troubling. It would probably be more troubling now that I’m older. We humans are capable of such self-deception, particularly because we can rationalize so well. I always recognize myself in such characters and feel their shame personally. Another character like The Spire’s protagonist in that respect is J. M. Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians.
      Must go back to your storm piece to cool me down whenever it’s unbearably hot. You’re not having that experience down under, but we approaching the most stiflingly hot part of the summer.

      Like

      • Funnily enough, I couldn’t bring myself to read ‘Waiting for the Barbarians…. I find now that I’m 75, I try to avoid reading books or seeing films that harrow me… I need to stay cheerful ! so this means not much fiction, but lots of history diaries, biographies and the like !
        I hope your dreadful heat dissolves..its so hard on everyone including birds, wild life and trees…And what you get, we seem to get the following season,. so we’re having an unusually freezing cold winter.at the moment…..

        Like

  38. I agree about Natalie Dessay. I am so sad that she is retiring, thank goodness for DVDs. Lovely descriptions, thank you.

    Like

  39. You have a remarkable talent for description Valerie. I almost felt I could see the storm. I really see the writer in you. xxx Huge Hugs xxx

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s