Only recently someone said to me that ‘Yousure know how to find a view’. I thought of it the other day as I was pegging out my washing in the blustery winds and suddenly stopped and looked at this…
As I turned and found myself looking at this on the other side, It did just make me stop and think of that conversation.
But I was also reminded of a conversation I had last summer with an elderly lady that I cared for. She had the most amazing view from every room in the home she had lived in for over fifty years. When I commented on the view she said ‘Yes, it’s a view!’ I understood exactly what she meant, a view is a fleeting thing, something that holds you in awe for a time and then it becomes like the sideboard, something that you take for granted, something that you have seen over and over, it no longer makes you go ‘wow!’ Unless you stop at times, and look out and remind yourself of how lucky you are.
When we first moved to Montaigu in France the view across the valley literally took my breath away.
The Valley From My French Garden
I would stand at my washing line and look across this valley and remind myself ‘I live here!’ In the same way as I would look out of my bedroom window at the hay bales as summer drew to a close and marvel at the colours, and nature.
French Summers
As time moved on although we never really tired of the view I can’t say that we were ‘in awe’ any longer, not unless we made ourself stop, and count our blessings.
But every morning if I was up early enough to see the sunrise I would rush out in my jymbi jambes and slippers and take photos of the sunrise, because no two were ever the same, all truly breathtaking. We count that view as a blessing, something in our memories for the rest of our lives.
Sunrises in the Pays de Loire
Now I find myself here in Donegal Ireland, surrounded by mountain ranges and beaches, it is the most atmospheric place that I have ever lived.
As I walk to the beach the colours change over and over, as does the weather with the sun, wind and rain.
I think it will be impossible to become bored with this, but I also think that’s because we try to always focus on the here and now, never take anything for granted, and count our blessings. One of those is that I have a view, but is it in the perspective? Can we not see something beautiful wherever we are? I don’t know I think I’ve been blessed.
More to come.
Rosie
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We have lived here in Ireland just over a month now. Even though we arrived on the 31st given the Journey we had we technically didn’t start living here until the 1st of January, and how time has flown what with all the things we have had to, and still are, sorting out. So much so that I have not given myself that ‘time out’ that I need to ground myself again.
I can be quite driven (I may have mentioned that before) it is one of the things that made me ill years ago, and despite having many processes available to me to slow myself down, like journalling, and reading Mark Nepo or M Scott Peck, or Byron Katie and many more, or allow myself time to just sit and embroider, the urge to create our ‘new life’ has overtaken me and I haven’t done nearly as much of that as I should.
We do take the dogs out every day, and the beautiful scenery around me and watching Harley turn into a puppy again when he hits the beach and Wiglet turn into King Canute, barking at the waves has been a joy; but it still hasn’t stopped my ‘drive’ and I am acutely aware that I need to reign it in or I won’t be able to give myself space to understand what we really need.
Welshies loving The Wild Atlantic Way in Donegal
Yesterday we were busy still trying to open a bank account (ID in any country is just a nightmare, it really is a ‘computer says know’ thing), ordering essentials for our new life, and shopping, when I realised when I got home after a busy day that I was spending too much time watching TV, or searching the internet for information that we needed, and hadn’t been giving myself that ‘time out’ that we all need.
January on The Wild Atlantic Way Donegal
So today I said to RD that I am having a spiritual day: reading Mark Nepo, blogging, reading last Saturday’s newspapers, doing some embroidery staying off searching the internet for ‘stuff.’ My brain needs a time out from trying to control my new life, and thereby allowing my new life to come to me.
So we are off for our hours walk down to the beach, the fire is already lit, and Mark Nepo is waiting to be read. And RD has decided to join me.
Beautiful Donegal Ireland
It’s so easy to be driven, especially when you’re trying to set up a new life and your thinking of the million things you need to do, so I am reminding myself today that what will be will be, and to live in the moment.
This will be my next writer to read.
Rosie
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There are so many things for us to sort out: bank accounts, house buying, paying French bills, social security numbers (you can’t do anything in Ireland without a social security number) but also, just to add to it, we need Irish driving licences because Ireland will no longer accept a UK driving licence because of Brexit! Add the pandemic into the mix, with half of the institutions you have to go to shut and it’s a joy. But, as someone said to us ‘you do like a big move don’t you?
And why not! Keeps us entertained 😂
Now since living in France, despite trying to get a social security number for five years I was never successful. We’re not the kind of folks who go to the doctor at the drop of a hat so no worries there, but due to the bureaucracy and lack of resources I was not able to get a referral to an eye consultant for the Glaucoma that I had developed at thirty-eight. Neither did I go to the opticians, because you can’t just go to the opticians in France you need a referral and two other hoops to jump through, so I gave up! I would also add to that how I kidded myself that because I was no longer staring at a computer twelve hours a day the Glaucoma had miraculously disappeared. The stories we tell ourselves sometimes!
So on arrival in Ireland the first thing I did was book an opticians appointment for us both. I had promised a lovely client of mine that I would, and she was very dear to me so I needed to keep my word. Also because we needed a report to enable us to get our licences, and the fact that my glasses were now nearly six years old, and I am officially myopic, the opticians appointments were my priority.
On arrival I was seen first. I knew I was in trouble when I could hardly see any of the field of vision test in my left eye. I had the photos of the back of my eye taken as well and halfway through my test the lovely optician informed my pressures were so high she was worried I was going to have ‘a bleed’ and that she was sending me as an emergency referral to the eye clinic there and then. Thank God they speak English, thank God we moved here when we did! She also explained that she believed I had already had a small bleed, that would not have necessarily affected my vision, but given that my pressures were dangerously high I need to go, and I need to go now. In addition she couldn’t sign off my form for my driving licence, something I had always feared since my initial diagnosis, that would no longer have the freedom that driving gave me.
Poor RD his appointment was cancelled and he had to drive like the wind to the hospital in the next county Sligo. On the way he was very quiet and confessed that he was really worried about me. I however was very calm, and explained to him that we could look at the drama, and the negative possibilities, and thereby build it up into a crises or, as I was seeing it, we could see our good fortune: that out of all of the things I had to organise ‘life’ had told me to book the opticians appointment first. That we had now moved to Ireland just in time, as it appeared, to save my eyesight; and that I was now in a country where I could speak the language (never under-estimate that). I actually saw myself as blessed.
When I explained it to him, RD commented that he hadn’t thought of it that way, and now looking at it that way his stresses were less.
On arrival at the hospital, after going through two road checks to ensure our journey was essential, off I went into the hospital. They were absolutely brilliant, no questions as to why I had let my glaucoma get out of hand, no judgement, in fact a lot of understanding. We were where we were, judgement was not going to help.
I was dispatched three and a half hours later with eye drops that make your eyelashes grow (always a half full girl) and we set off in the dark January night for our three hour journey home through the mountains. At this point I will introduce my other blessing that day: RD. He waited in the cold for three hours, walking the puppies who we had thought we could take for a walk around Donegal town, and had brought with us. There were no facilities in this pandemic time for him to even buy a coffee, luckily I brought him one out from the little coffee shop in the hospital, that I passed on my way out. He then drove home in the pitch black, a total of six hours driving that day, with never a word of complaint.
The following week we went back to complete our eye tests. I had religiously applied my drops every day, and I had never allowed my brain to wonder ‘what if?’ I know that what will be, will be, and negative thoughts can bring negative things your way, so I have strong enough processes now to stop my brain going down that road. By the end of the test my eyes had improved sufficiently for my form to get my licence to be signed off. When I asked the young optician (everyone’s young to me now!) if my pressures and eyesight had improved, or was that wishful thinking, he said he thought it was wishful thinking but would check anyway. In fact my field of vision had improved dramatically, my prescription has also reduced and my pressures had gone from dangerously high to within normal parameters, in a week! Even he was shocked. I wasn’t, I was just grateful.
Rosie
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Ever since starting this blog nearly six years ago it has always been my aim to encourage people to just consider something different, to think, to not be afraid.
I have been inspired by many books and philosophies over the years, and although now someone who tries to remind myself of the teaching of the Tao, and follow it where I can, if you asked me what book, to date, has inspired me the most then it would always be ‘The Road Less Travelled’ by M. Scott Peck. It was the book that set me on the path to read the other books, and I would not be the person that I am today if I had not picked that book up at one of the darkest times of my life, a time when I HAD to find myself all over again. (You would need to read my other blog at https://makingthisbetter.com to understand where I was, and why RD is now called RD)
I learned that I could not ‘go back’ and find myself, you can never go back, you can only go forward; and even now when I hear people say ‘let’s get back to normal.’ I hear myself say ‘you can’t go back, you can only go forward, and the ‘normal’ that you knew has gone.’
When I read this book I took on board so many of what the author had to say: how our life is mapped out for us by what we are taught in the early stages of our lives, but that as we grow older and life teaches us, or shows us happiness and sorrow, to truly live our life we need to have the courage to step off the road that was mapped out, and to face uncertainties and our fears, to truly live.
Ever the empath I learned how people project their problems onto you, the proverbial ‘monkey on your back’, or transference as it is known. Once I read that I could see so clearly when people were doing it, but, ever the empath, it was a big learning for me to stop when necessary.
It was because of that book that I was encouraged to look into philosophy, and try to ascertain a deeper understanding of life. I suppose that it taught me to face my fears, and not be afraid, thereby leading me to these adventures, and to quote M .Scott Peck, to understand that ‘someone else was doing the driving.’ I understood that no matter how much we think we are in control of our lives we are not, fate, or ‘life’ as RD and I call it, is.
I understand now that everything has to be a balance: bad things have to happen to enable us to understand the good things when they happen, and to not be afraid of this, or dwell on it, To just take the rough with the smooth. So many people focus on the negative things that happen to them, ask ‘why me?’ ‘Why us?’ and then they don’t see the really small good things that happen and so the negative things just keep happening because they have lost their ‘balance.’
So where is this leading? Well it was all of this that gave me the courage to go on these adventures, to know that everything changes, and to go with that change, to ‘let go of the rice’ (The Book of Awakenings. Mark Nepo).
Some of our garden in France
When we went to France we thought that ‘was it’. We thought that was where we were going to live forever, we felt we had to believe that, because we had sold up all our worldly goods and taken that chance on France, so therefore it HAD to work. Didn’t it? Of course it didn’t! I learned that ‘life’ is about learning and then moving on with the knowledge you have learned.
So we took our learnings from that adventure and we used them to go on to a new adventure. Lots of things were sent our way to help us make that decision, good and bad things, but one that sticks with me was when in 2019, someone who was moving back to the UK after living in France for ten years said that she thought that life went in ten year cycles and that then it was time to move on to pastures new. This was a time when both RD and I were considering whether staying in France was right for us, and her words resonated with me.
Since moving to Ireland I have joined some Facebook groups for the area, and about Ireland. One of them is actually called ‘I’d rather be in Ireland’.
The Beach at Dunmore Donegal Ireland
I have shared some of our photos and how we have now chosen where to settle in Ireland and so many people from all over the world have commented on how ‘lucky’ we are. Of how envious they are.
Snow Topped Errigal Mountain Donegal January 2021
It really got me thinking. Are we lucky? Or have we faced our fears?
Or are we perhaps lucky that we are able to face our fears, or open our minds?
January Sunset, Donegal Ireland
Remember it as one of the most painful things of my life that brought me to this stage, and I can confidently say that the same can be said for RD. some people would look at what happened to us then and pity us. But look at where it got us: to a place where we know that in life there is nothing to fear, only fear itself. Enabling us to take these chances.
RD had never ever been to Ireland, but he had faith in me, enough to trust me, who would have thought that, given that years ago he thought I was waiting to take my revenge!
I suppose what I am trying to say is if you look at someone and think ‘I wish I could do that’, then your brain starts to put all different obstacles in the way, I am saying understand they are obstacles but you can do it.
January in stunning Donegal
It won’t be easy. Look at our recent experiences: Christmas was cancelled, sad to leave our home and our wonderful French friends, difficult journeys, saying goodbye to our beloved pets we had to leave behind because they had departed, working so hard we felt like we would drop, and still so much more to do…. but it can be done.
Lots to tell you, more to come
Rosie
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Since living here I have realised how little we actually walked when living in France. Having just under an acre of land the dogs had enough space to roam, our road was over 2km long, and after you’d done that walk often it became a bit boring. So we became a lazy, just sitting under the trees in our then garden, and looking out over the beautiful view.
The View From Our Garden In France
It’s been cold here since our arrival in Donegal in Ireland, so at times our walks have incorporated wild wild winds, or mizzle (a mixture of mist and drizzle, the name coming from Cornwall) or just bracing cold in bright sunshine, and sometimes in the setting sun.
A Wall of Wave on The Wild Atlantic Way Donegal Ireland January Sunset On The Wild Atlantic Way Donegal Ireland Welsh Terriers OnThe Beach In Donegal Ireland January Sunset On Carrickfin Beach The Wild Atlantic Way Donegal Ireland
Now we are renting a house where the grounds are not secure, so we have to take the Welsh Terriers for a long walk every day. But there is no ‘have to’ to be fair, because when the colours in your surroundings seem to change every few minutes, and your scenery is mountains and beaches, and the ‘Wild Atlantic Way’ we don’t need any encouragement.
Snow Capped Mountains in January in Donegal Ireland
After every walk we come home with our faces stinging and pink from the cold; and despite often being sopping wet (this is Ireland after all) we feel invigorated. We have even downloaded walking apps onto our phone, and in the last week I have achieved over twenty five thousand steps and burned off over two thousand calories. It is good for me because I have an injury to a very small muscle in my arse, it’s chronic and I’ve had it a number of years, but the walking is strengthening my other muscles, although we have decided that I need a walking stick to help me get up the banks on the beaches, and to climb some of the dunes. Who would have thought such a small muscle could incapacitate you to such a degree! But I am undeterred, you have to keep going.
Eregal Mountain January In Donegal
Today the mountain range was covered in snow, which blew in last night. There we were on the beach looking at the snow covered mountains.
The dogs absolutely love their beach walks, and Wiglet who used to be terrified of our swimming pool in France, is in awe of the sea. She stands, like King Canute, barking at the waves, commanding them to go back. Then hilariously keeps jumping and looking back as the creep up behind her, as if to say ‘They’re following me!’
Wiglet Commanding The Waves
No matter how cold, both of them run in and out of the surf, and stand facing the wind, ears on alert. It really is a simple thing that we love in these difficult times.
We love living here.
Rosie
Winter Sunset Carrickfin Donegal Ireland
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Last week we decided to find the beautiful long beach that our landlord had told us about. Off we went, sailing past the turning and following the signs depicting The Wild Atlantic Way
The weather was blowing a hooley, pouring with rain, with intermittent strong blasts of driving sleet, it was a joy. Really it was a joy! I am loving every bit of weather that blows our way, in the same way as I embraced every season and what it had to offer in France. I am doing the same here, with the different colours of the sky and sea. But on with my story…
We arrived at a small beach where there was a sign that said ‘No Swimming On This Beach At ANY Time Of The Year’. That should have been a clue! There were people walking on the beach, well in fact they were just leaving as we started to make our way down the wooden walkway onto the beach.
At the bottom of the stairway were a collection of small rocks, with a glen trickling into the sea, which you had to step over, or through if you had your wellygogs on like me. I stopped to look at the waves running back onto the rocks, trying to ascertain whether the tide was coming in.
This beach really lived up to the title of ‘Wild Atlantic Way’. The storm was blowing around us and the waves were pounding the beach, with some literally the size of a house.
Yep! That’s a wave!
RD had made his way onto the beach in front of me, and as I watched the waves run over my wellygogs, they went from covering my toes to coming halfway up my boot, in one wave! I shouted to RD ‘The tide is coming in, we need to go back’ as the third wave came to the top of my boot. He looked at me as if I was mad until he saw how deep the water was becoming, and as I turned and made my way back to the walkway he started to come back, reigning the Welshies in on their leads. But Harley’s lead jammed and as RD was pulling him back manually a huge wave came in and just took RD’s feet out from under him, literally. It pulled Wiglet’s lead and dragged her back into the sea, luckily she managed to scramble onto a rock.
The rocks now filling with water
I had turned round just in time to see it happen, it was so fast, and RD was just laying there, with his back to me, with the waves building up to come again, and I knew we were in trouble.
My immediate reaction was ‘Oh my God!’ But as the wave went out it also pulled RD’s tracksuit bottoms and pants down (thank God we were the only lunatics on the beach!) and I confess as I scrambled back across the rocks a little giggle escaped from me, and although I was terrified I was struggling not to laugh as my husband lay on the beach with his arse on show.
By the time I got to RD he had managed to get up, but was soaked from top to bottom, and was covered in sand. Wiglet was fine and just ran up to me but Harley was still halfway up the ever diminishing beach. I took Harley’s lead and pushed a very shocked RD towards the steps, as I pulled Harley back. I could see RD was in pain, he had hurt his shoulder because as he fell he hit some rocks (with his arse hanging out!).
As we got back to the van I looked back and the whole beach had been covered by the huge crashing waves. It had taken less than four minutes and we had been lucky. RD insisted on driving home, and refused to go to the hospital despite being in pain and unable to lift his arm. I am not going to lie, once we were safe, despite my best intentions I could not breathe for laughing every time the picture of RD on his side, with his arse hanging out came into my head. I’m blaming it on nerves.
The next day Wiglet decided to run at something whilst RD was holding her lead on his injured side, pulling his shoulder so hard it cracked and popped back into his socket. Who knew she was a nurse as well as a naughty terrier?! RD’s shoulder is now fine.
Revenge is sweet: my arse as taken by my husband!
So as they say revenge is sweet. As I wrote in my post about our walks I have a chronic injury in my piriformis muscle in my arse, it makes it very difficult to step up, or push myself up. Yesterday we went for a long walk on the beach and followed it all the way round getting to a low part of the bank where RD said ‘Oh look this has even go a foothold for you.’ Now the problem is as I said my injured leg cannot assist my other leg in either pushing or pulling myself up. So there I was stuck. As I tried to get up instead of helping me RD stood behind me taking a series of photos of my dilemma (and arse) and crying with laughter as he did so.
As I tried to get up, hearing him laughing I started to laugh, not good for a woman of a certain age who has had children!
So I suppose the moral of this story, in such dark times, is see the funny side, and don’t take life so seriously. We don’t and we feel all the better for it.
Have a good Sunday folks.
Rosie
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I am currently sitting in bed, it’s 11.45 in the morning and we have allowed ourselves a morning lie in. It’s a busy time.
We have a very atmospheric sky today, and the pictures above are what I can see from my vantage point as I write this.
I am surrounded by sleeping Welshies and RD snoring away, and after our scare last weekend I have again been reminded to only ever live in the here and now.
This will be our second move in six years. In fact in our twenty- two, almost twenty- three years of being together we have moved four times, this will be our fifth move.
Over the week as well as frantically taking as many photos of the fabulous sunsets we are blessed with, I have been packing up our belongings and I was making decisions about what to keep and what to let go. As part of this I was boxing up the shoes that we had, supposedly, decided we were taking with us, after letting so many pairs go; and as I did so I found myself putting additional pairs in the clothing bag for charity. In fact it was as if I was having an epiphany: you HAVE to let go of the old to make room for the new.
The shoes weren’t the only things that led to this. I have my son’s cot in the barn, he is thirty-one years old, why the hell did I ship it to France? I know why, we were moving to another country and for the first time I would not have my son near to me, that first Christmas without him being there was a hard lesson. But now it’s what it is, he has his life, and I want him to live it, and I have learned to let go of the idea that we always have to be together.
Then there is a blue top that belonged to my mum, it was her favourite top, she wore it often. After she died I kept it, and dutifully moved it three times. I thought when we came here I had let it go, but no, when I sorted our cupboard at the top of the stairs there it was again, buried in amongst all the clothes we have never worn in five years. I let it go this time, with all the other clothes. Only this time was different: this time I held it up and said to RD ‘This is not my mum, this is a top. My mum is in my memories.’
After that I was then on a roll: the fridge magnets we bought in Disney twenty- seven years ago (when I was married to my first husband ffs!) off they went to the great dechetterie (dump in French) in the sky. Sentimental mugs, faux flowers, old earrings, and watches and bracelets, tarnished, were in the bin before they knew it.
All of this got me thinking is life really just one big on-going lesson about learning to let go? Is life really just a lesson in learning about why we hold on to things which then enables us to let them go?
I understand why I bought so many things from our old house with me. I loved that house, I found it hard leave it, and so I bought the things I could from it, because it was too hard to let it all go at once. But as the years passed here I realised I didn’t want to re-create my past, that I need to make something new. My old house had gone, and I was then ready to let the things associated with it go too. There are some things I love that I will take with me because I love the item itself, or the memory it conjures up.
As I packed away my thoughts developed further and I found myself asking does that apply to everything in life? Including the loved ones we have lost? Someone once said to me ‘every time you cry about your mum, you pull her back, and you never let her spirit free.’ I found it difficult to understand at first, but after reading and learning and listening and reflecting it becomes clearer every day.
When my mum was dying she promised she would come back for each and every one of us, so when my beloved Westie dog died I thought I would feel my mum’s presence, and my heartbreak was even more compounded when I didn’t.
I understand now that it was never going to be, because we are all spirits learning what we need to learn in each lifetime, and we then move on to the next stage of our enlightenment. Perhaps those who love us stay near for a time, but eventually they have to let us go, to enable us to grow.
Then there are the friendships that come and go, and sometimes come back again after we have all learned and evolved. I believe the right people migrate back to you, as I have written about often. But more importantly how often does life show us that we need to let the relationships go? Show us, as we evolve, that they weren’t what we thought they were at all? That the people were not what we thought? Or, thinking even more deeply, perhaps they were, and it is us who have changed.
I think that is one of the hardest lessons of all, we don’t want to see negatives in those we have spent so much of our life with. But if we are able to objectively, it can enable us to decide whether to still have the person in our life or not, without rancour or pain. It’s just what it is.
Letting go of pain, letting go of hurt, just letting go without bitterness, is probably one of the hardest things to do. When RD left me I learned from writing my journal that if I allowed myself to be consumed in bitterness I would be destroyed. That was nearly fourteen years ago, now I use what I learned to help some others who find themselves where I was, but now I also know it applies to so many things in life. But I can only help ‘some’ because the others do not want to ‘let go.’ And so they continue to suffer in pain. That experience has taught me to let go of the hope that I could help everyone. I can’t, people can only ever help themselves.
I have learned over the past five years that we cannot have the sunny side of life all the time. The Tao has taught me that where there is good there is bad, where there is love there is heartache, where there is life there is death. I had to remind myself of that last week when Harley was ill, I had to say it as a mantra, and despite the pain I felt, it gave me comfort and strength and it has made me live every day this week cherishing every small moment.
It’s amazing isn’t it, what you learn as you unpack and pack your life up again? And the time will come, in the near future, when we let this house go, and this adventure go, and we ‘let go,of the rice.’ (Mark Nepo, The Book Of Awakening
Have a good Sunday folks.
Rosie
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Selling houses is stressful, there is no doubt about that. But more of that on future blogs. Just to say the Compromise de Vente (which means a commitment to sale) has finally been signed by our buyers, and we are due to sign next week. There will then be a ten day cooling off period for the buyers, fingers crossed it all goes well.
Due to the stresses it has been easy to forget that we only ever live in the here and now. So last week as RD and I sat in the garden in some bright autumn sunshine, I reminded him that we should make the most of our impromptu tea break because when we go to Ireland we are both going back to work, which means the time for impromptu tea breaks on any day will be gone. That we should treasure how much time we get to spend with the Welshies, because we won’t have as much time as this in the future.
Later in the week we lit our garden fire, and took two of our garden chairs to just ‘sit’ and watch the flames. We are both in the frame of mind that we just want to leave France now, but we should treasure the moments when we sit under some of our majestic oaks, with the dogs, and enjoy the peace and solitude that you can only find in nature.
Today we were invited to our lovely neighbours Manu and Lucie, for aperitif. We spent a couple of hours with them, playing drafts with the chess set we retrieved from our barn, a gift to our son many years ago and never touched. Trying to teach them,and us,chess with the language barrier was just too great! Their eight year old son loved it, and a relaxed fun couple of hours was had.
RD has been struggling with everything that’s been going on, but when we returned he said ‘that has really lifted me, today,’ I looked at him and said ‘That’s what I mean about living in the here and now, we give so much focusing on what we want in the future we fail to see what we have now. We let it go, and we stop enjoying it.’ RD looked at me and said ‘I understand.’
Happy Sunday folks
Rosie
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On Friday France went back into total lockdown. It’s more organised than the first, meaning Marie’s and official offices are open, but it also means that non-essential businesses have had to shut. (Or what are deemed non-essential, not quite sure who makes that decision! )
I am forever grateful that I chose to give up my job when I did, because the possibility of me being trapped on the Illes de Manche (Islands in the Sea) was great. I can’t afford that now when we are selling up.
I was going to update on the move, but in fact I am going to write about my local community and the current mood in France due to the second lockdown.
The 1st of November is La Toussaint, All Saints Day, and it is a bank holiday because it is taken so seriously. The French take chrysanthemums to the graveyards as a gesture of thanks to those they have lost. It is a revered day, but today the French are united in protesting against the second lockdown and its implications. (I would say for France but it is across the world.) Today they are mourning the loss of all they believe in… Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.
This is a Facebook post from today, posted by our dog groomer. Because the second lockdown was imposed so suddenly she worked from 7am until midnight on Thursday. Now she does not know when, or if, she will re-open. She shared photos of the protest that is currently taking place in Mayenne, on this revered day, on a Sunday, by all the small traders such as her, and by the shops that are classed as ‘non-essential.’ In fact as I write this social media is reporting that it is spreading to all towns across the region.
Choosing to do this on this day is a clear indication of the French mood. This time they have placed the wreath and chrysanthemums to mourn the loss of commerce and equality in France. To mourn the loss of freedom.
The French have had enough. It is safe to say that Macron will not get in again. The French people are resilient people, especially in the vast areas of countryside such as here. They do not believe that ‘lockdown’s’ work, and I agree with them.
I have not written a lot about this Pandemic, I did share Kev’s Post , which so many people were too afraid to read (I know frightening to believe we are being controlled. But we are.) I find it more frightening that people are allowing their fear to prevent them from seeing what is clearly in plain site. Some may want to listen to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIHoNT_PklY&feature=share
Others, of course may not.
But now I am showing solidarity with my host country, with people worldwide who are losing their livelihoods, their homes, unable to feed their children, let alone themselves.
Fight Against the Unfair Competition
If you look at the plaque on the bottom of the wreath it says that it is to mark the death of commerce. That is what the French are mourning today, and I mourn with them.
I am sharing the story of the protest in the small town of Mayenne about the handling of this pandemic, in the hope that others will start to protest, will start to question why you can go into a pub but can’t drink alcohol (Scotland). Why you can go into a shop and buy food but you can’t buy clothes (Wales). Why you all have to be home by 9pm. Why? Can’t you catch the virus before then? In fact the French are calling the virus The Vampire Virus, because it only comes out at night! Or let’s talk about masks, for all the ‘you should wear a mask vigilantes out there’ because they’ve really worked haven’t they?
I am questioning why we have to protect the NHS when people are dying of cancer, due to cancelled appointments, undiagnosed conditions, and so much more. Do you really believe that cancelling chemo for a cancer patient is to save their life and stop them from dying from Covid? So they can die of cancer instead then? Then they can be added to the stats for all those who have died. It’s a disgrace.
I am questioning why some people think it’s okay (in their naive little world) to say that feeding children is the responsibility of the parent. Is that the parent who works in a pub, or has just lost their job, who was a flight attendant or cabin crew. God forbid we should have any sympathy for children of drug addicts, or alcoholics, or disabled people whose benefits have been cut! You might be picking up I am not into the ‘I’m alright Jack!’ Mentality.
It is time to consider, no matter how frightening, how huge the impact of economics is. The people who have lost their jobs will not be able to buy the things they used to buy, thereby impacting on other peoples jobs when they see a reduction for the need of their services. Mental health problems will increase, meaning a surge of acute health problems, because it is recognised that mental health has the greatest impact on physical health. What will happen to the NHS then?
Just some things to think about. I have been tested many times, and to date have not caught the virus, but if I do, I do. I would of course isolate from others and use my common sense, unlike some of our leaders across the world! And yes I may die, but I still count freedom and liberty as more important than protecting me when I could get run over tomorrow.
If you read the history of Pandemics, the second wave was inevitable, and herd immunity is crucial. If you don’t want to read up on it, because you are afraid this may frighten you more.
I ask the question: What’s the plan for when we come out of this lockdown?
Vive La France
Rosie
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It’s a blowy, blustery day here in France. One of those types of days that I love: when the rain is blown in and literally back out again by the ferocity of the wind, and the trees are waving away like demented stick giants frantically trying to tell us something.
I found the quote at the beginning of the post, today. As always, at a time when I needed to be reminded. What we will need will come. Selling houses are always such stressful times.
I reminded RD last night as we lay in our pretty little bedroom cuddling, with the lights sparkling away, and the Welshies gently snoring, that despite what we think we want, we must remember to live in the here and now: with our lovely house, with it’s stunning views, because that is all we have. As I lay in the night listening to the rain hitting the shutters I was reminded that this was one of the first things I loved about living here: that noise of the rain being flung about by the wind, knocking at the shutters as if asking to come into the safe and warm.
I think selling houses gets you so caught up in the planning for the future that you can often lose sight of the fact that you’re not really living your current moment. It was timely that the quote was sent my way today.
We had ordered some wood for the winter, knowing that despite the pending move nothing is certain and that we still need it for the here and now. With RD working it was down to me to take delivery and decant into our log store.
It was just what I needed: to be out in the blowey blustery day working, whilst I let the wind clear my mind. Nature was kind to me, the sun came out and the rain blew on by. I took some time to watch as the leaves dancing in the air as if some mad puppet master had control of them, at one point it looked as if they were marching in a line.
Now after a few hours work I sit here….
It is one of my favourite places to sit, and I am listening to the wind blowing through the trees, the sun is streaming through the window and I am again counting my blessings.
Rosie
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