a canadaire in action

in every eden

in every eden there is a serpent, for every maiden there is a dragon, in every cabbage patch there are slugs ,the dragon that disturbs the eden of the provencal littoral is the threat of fire. every time the mistral blows, one pauses, fires are usually started deliberately on windy days , the latest conflagration between la coitat and cassis almost penetrating la coitat itself .why do the pyromaniacs do it, a drug induced wish to see it burn or just sheer wickedness, who knows .it takes years to regenerate what has been lost .the solution to restore the mixed woodland that once covered provence now replaced by pines which were able to survive the ravenous attentions of goats, the canadaires that quench the fires are something we ought to have in the u.k

old politics

in france chirac wriggles out of trouble by paying back money to avoid prosecution , in uk we have new leader of labour elected in part by unions who have no mandate - to revise the words of madame roland ''democracy what sins are committed in thy name''

L'éternel automne du rock anglo-américain

J'ai été, je le crois profondément,sauvé par la musique anglo-saxonne. Sauvé non pas au sens symbolique mais métabolique. La littérature française fut la première marche vers la compréhension de l'automne qui est en moi néanmoins rien dans la musique francophone, rien, dis-je en insistant, ne parlait à ce que je suis. Un mutisme ridicule de prétentions l'habite, aucune tensions vers les tréfonds de l'âme ne s'y trouve, c'est une musique étriquée et politique. Ici je veux dire l'outrageuse usurpation des chanteurs francophones, exception faite sans doute à Jacques Brel. Demain c'est l'automne et en écoutant encore et encore l'écho du fond de mon ventre qui habite une langue qui n'est pas la mienne, je me sens profondément le débiteur de cette culture anglaise. Combien de français peuvent comprendre cela ? Combien peuvent le savoir ? Qui va leur dire dans l'aveuglement anglo-scéptique des médias français. Alors je le répète né français, mes frères d'âme anglo-saxons m'ont tiré du néant musical de mon pays. Autour de moi, croyez ce que je vous dis, autour de moi je le porte haut ce discours. Malheureusement le goût français parfois me désole.

an ambition fulfilled

since i was student,i have always wanted to see the facade of st triomphe in arles, the sculptures on the front of the church show christ in majesty surrounded by his saints, sinners on one side the damned on the other, to view it was to get an insight into the mediaeval mind where god was not just one of love but also one of vengeance .that i was able to see this was thanks to solar who also intoduced me to the director of a theatrical gruop that performs in the roman theatre even the arena had gladiators in it, another memorable day in my beloved midi

the x factor

whait is it about the french president that would make an ex minister with a mysterious baby your brother's ex wife conspire to bring your own ex wife back in order to ouste the current wife incomprehensible this side of the channel - french farce at its best perhaps, back stabbing ,rumour mongering ,glamerous rivals, we have it all yet at the centre of the vortex what have we got, the diminutive sarkozy. either this regiment of women are mad or sakozy had hidden talents that make him worth the struggle. at the moment the present day catherine de medic carla bruni has seen off the attack --another lull before another storm in this particular tasse de the