The vigneron's wife

My dear uncle – the other ‘King’

December 2, 2012December 6, 2012The vigneron's wife

I’ve been reminded today of how hard it is to lose someone you love. I lost my wonderful, funny, larger than life uncle.

I was out in my car and receieved a text from my brother in Australia – it said our uncle had died half an hour earlier.

There I was, sitting alone in my car, on a country road in the middle of nowhere, reading a simple, clear message that suddenly altered a part of my life forever .

I felt so far away from home. And I still do. I can’t be with my family and the people I love over there – and give my Mum and Dad and my brothers a hug and say how much I love them. I wasn’t able to tell my Uncle that either. I can’t cry and laugh about him with my cousins. I can’t go to his funeral and be there for my dad, his big brother.

It sucks being so far from home sometimes. You try to get on with your life, you accept the distance (even though it’s still hard), you enjoy where you are and try to make the most of each day and then wham, something like this happens.

Thank you Uncle Leigh for everything we shared: the loud LOUD music, your cooking, the laughs, your humour, letting me stay up late, fish and chips at the beach for our lunch breaks when I was your chauffeur; and of course Elvis – watching re-runs of nearly every live Elvis performance on video together, paying me to edit the commercials out for your recordings of Elvis tv midday movies, telling me the King was possibly still alive; you saying your tongue-in-cheek ‘bonjours’ to me over the phone from Australia, telling Dad to stop pissing with him when he didn’t understand my new married name really was ‘Dunno’ after I’d eloped; the widened eyes in mock horror at cheeky jokes, letting me house-sit for you and Marilyn all those times (my girlfriends and I thank you), showing me amazing jazz performances on the tele until all hours, re-enacting for me the first swimming scene from Jaws in our pool (you playing that woman) over and over again with me watching and squealing with excitement, when I was still ‘too young’ to watch the actual film; coming home late at night to see you lying on the couch at Mum and Dad’s watching a movie with them (you always got the best seat in the house); and not to ever forget, Uncle Leigh, your enthusiasm and positivity – your happiness at being alive. You were always so much fun to be around and we all, your many nieces and nephews (you were the youngest of 10), knew how much you loved us all – as we do you.

Thanks for everything Uncle Leigh. I am going to miss you so much.

Elvis from the 1968 Comeback Special — Elvis in the 1968 Comeback Special – one of Uncle Leigh’s favourites

weekend walk

November 28, 2012November 28, 2012The vigneron's wife

Smelling the fresh air.

…I’m at last getting the hang of this season.

la vie en rose

November 19, 2012November 20, 2012The vigneron's wife

papier cul — dunny paper, loo paper, bog roll, papier toilette, PQ… in PINK

Dunny paper, loo paper, bog roll,toilet paper, toilet tissue, papier toilette, PQ (this one is good – it’s French and so tres elegant – it’s pronounced ‘pai-cue’, short for papier cul,’arse paper’)… So many glorious ways to label a roll of perforated paper that wipes your bits. But whatever the name, there is a fashion here in France that never goes out of fashion – your PQ in pretty old pink.

Forget baguettes, 2CVs, the Eiffel Tower… Yes, when I think of a recurring image over here, I think of pink PQ. In almost every home you visit, you help yourself to, pink. In any cafe, bar or restaurant toilet, pink. Have a stroll down any supermarket toilet tissue aisle and you goggle over mountains of… pink. Good luck if you’re searching for non-bleached, non-patterned or basic white. They’ll be the few small piles hidden amidst the enormous volumes of joli rose – or once in a while spotted in a public loo!

mountains of lush pink dunny paper — mountains of lush, pink dunny paper

Why? In fifteen years of frequent pondering (nearly always whilst sitting on someone else’s loo, reaching over for their dainty pink squares) – and asking most French people I know – I still don’t have an answer for it. I’m by no means the first person to be asking either – I have friends! Loads of them. There are millions of internet search engine results concerning this very discussion in both French and English. Some bloody funny theories too. But still no answers!

It doesn’t explain the pink, but here’s a bit of trivia – correct me if I’m wrong! – about the French and their PQ, found in my search for THE answer: it is said toilet paper was introduced in this country at the beginning of the 20th Century, but as it was long considered a luxury item, it was only from the 1960s its use became widespread.

And in shades of pink at that.

Chic.

orange

November 8, 2012February 8, 2013The vigneron's wife

Autumn in La Liviniere — Autumn colour in La Liviniere

It’s here!?!!

I must admit I often feel flat at this time of year, well for the first few weeks anyway – no more bare legs and t-shirts, no more swimming outdoors, cold dashes out of the shower… But finally I somehow get into the swing of it and embrace the warm fires inside, the hearty meals and walks in the brisk air. And after so many years of braving the cold INDOORS when I rented in Australia, I am loving and embracing the central heating everywhere.

orange plane trees — I must admit I took this shot a while back, but I still love it

Autumn plane trees — Plane trees along the Canal du Midi

Yes, Autumn has arrived but thankfully with all its magical colour. It’s making me think ORANGE!

kids marvelling at the famous 'Baked Bean' parked on a village street...the lady owner steps in, la proprietaire de la voiture, ...Rrrowrrrr — kids marvelling at the famous ‘Baked Bean’ parked on a village street
…the lady owner steps in, *la proprietaire de la voiture*, …Rrrowrrrr!

I’m loving this colour right now and thought I’d put together a few of my favourite ‘orange’ pictures… And f you’ve wandered around this blog already, you might have picked up on the fact that I do have a little thing for collages. I’m pathetic, once I like something, I can’t stop! (my lovely girlfriends had diagnosed me at the age of 14 with O.C.D).

So hulahup, Barbatruc, here’s another one for you.