Another foray into France

This last week, we took another foray into France back to the glorious Haute Marne which has become the other place we most like to be; or, more specifically to the Marne valley south of Joinville. Before we went, however, we were having some very cold, but rather beautiful mornings here in the flatlands. The photo below was the magical view I saw from the window early one morning. Isn't it just so ethereally beautiful?

We drove down on Thursday, and as usual, we headed for the waterside when we arrived. Below is a photo of the lock at Villiers-sur-Marne, a village we intend to spend more time in and around. It has everything we like: a lovely mooring, ideal for the Hennie H (not permanent, unfortunately), locks, bridges, a railway with a level crossing and, of course, the beautiful rush of the Marne river which divides itself into different courses several times along this stretch. 

The canal was exceptionally full with the water topping the upper gates and tumbling into the supposedly empty lock, which then has to release the excess into the next stretch below.

On the way into the village, we spotted this old contraption. It says it's le Cable Pompe. I honestly don't know what it was used for as it's nowhere near a pumping station or a fire service point, but it looks pretty old and must have been in use for something important at one time. It sits right beside the road, so if anyone has an idea, do let me know.

Le Cable Pompe wasn't all too far from the building below, which is a lovely old water mill, so maybe there's a connection there. Koos took a much more artistic photo of the mill, but I was lazy because of the cold and took mine from the comfort of the car.

On Friday, we spent some time in the charming town of Joinville. I confess I didn't take any photos, but enjoyed walking around the local market and through its winding ancient streets. The sun was shining, which made all the difference. Here's a photo I took in October 2023 of the canal as it passes through the town. 

We actually spent the two nights we were there at an airbnb apartment in the village of Donjeux. As you enter Donjeux, you have to cross the canal and two separate branches of the river. And then you climb. The hill up to the church and beyond where we were staying was very steep, so absolutely no risk of flooding there. Unfortunately for us, the road was being repaired, which included the stretch where our accommodation was, so we had to park in a small square and haul our bags, provisions, dog and ourselves (possibly the most difficult part) a couple of hundred metres over a very uneven surface. 

The place itself was perfect, so no complaints there. We were very comfortable and had plenty of room. Zoe and I took a couple of nice long walks along the river, which showed signs of having been very turbulent recently. In fact, there were heaps of debris piled up along the banks, as you can see if you click on the photo below. The river's current was also running very fast and I shuddered a little to think of anything or anyone falling in.

The water mill in the photo below was pumping like mad, and it occurred to me that the houses close to the water must have to get used to the noise it made. I'm not sure I'd like it so much, though. If you can imagine listening to a constant, regular and noisy washing machine, you'd pretty much know what I mean. 

Back at the top of the village, I was captivated by this roofscape. I do like seeing all the different angles and shapes of these old village houses, and the church tower added the perfect punctuation to the scene. It's a pity about all the cables that disturb the view. Rural France's electricity and phone lines still seem to be largely above ground, unlike our flatlands where they are mostly buried in the sand on which the streets are built. On the other hand, the cables do give the scenery a certain old-fashioned character.

Of course, we are back home now, and glad of it too. The weather has turned extremely cold again and we even had flurries of snow today, but we have a plan to go back again next month. I'll explain why then, as there have been some exciting new developments, but I'll just keep you all in suspense for now. Is that mean? I don't intend to be, but I also don't want to jump the gun. 😊

For now, enjoy the rest of your week, allemaal, and keep warm or cool whichever suits!

Catching my tail – or January in this case

Can you believe it? It's February already, and I haven't caught up with January yet. It seems to have flown by, and I'm having difficulty in remembering what's been happening since the New Year kicked in. When I think about it, much of the month has been taken up with work, which is nothing to write home about other than that the course I'm giving is very time-consuming. 

I'm teaching a largish group of graduate students who have to complete a set of exercises, evaluation tasks and writing assignments every week, which I then have to review with feedback. I should say most of them are very diligent, but there are always those who lag behind, and others who are very needy, so I'm often answering emails and questions at all hours of the day and night. 

January is also a time when I try to organise my paperwork from the previous year. It's a task I dislike, but I know it has to be done. It should be easy after all these years of freelancing, but for some reason, it always gives me a headache. All those numbers send my brain into a complete tizz, but I'll get there eventually. 

Another goal I'm trying to achieve is to arrange a lift out for Vereeniging, but that's not going all too well. I've emailed three shipyards in the area so far. One says Vereeniging's too small (even though we were on their yard with the even smaller Hennie H two years ago), one hasn't replied at all, and the last one asked for more information but hasn't come back to me again. I think I'm going to have to pay them a visit instead. 

On the subject of email, just as an aside, have you noticed how difficult it is to get answers to mails these days? Gone are the times when it was a quick, reliable form of communication. I remember when I was working in South Africa, it was an absolute point of honour to reply to emails within 24 hours and letters within three days. We could just dream of that nowadays, couldn't we? In fact, we're lucky to get a reply to an email within a week now, and as for letters, no one even sends those for anything other than official information notices, and most of the time, they're already out of date before they even send them. 

Is this beginning to sound like a rant? Hmm, I suppose it is. The thing is, I received a reminder the other day for a bill I'd actually paid well before the due date. When I wanted to call the company to complain, I saw there was no date on the letter or on the envelope, and no signature. It made me wonder if they just send the reminders out without checking the actual status of the person's account – just in case, so to speak. I sent them an email, but of course, no one answered (see above). I tried their chat program, but only managed to end up in an ever repeating circular conversation with a bot called Bob who kept giving me inane answers and then asking me if 'he'd' been helpful. Eventually, I got tired of telling Bob he'd been utterly useless and finally got hold of the company via WhatsApp. Even then, they only answered the next day. 

I wonder what we'll be reduced to next if we need to contact companies. And before anyone suggests calling, I refuse to spend a whole day waiting for a real person to answer the phone, which is often the case. After going through a questionnaire delivered by an AI voice which challenges my mathematically inept brain with all the number options it gives me, I'm then subjected to endless rounds of piped 'lift' music, which is enough to send me to sleep and miss the call when I ultimately reach my turn. So no. Calling just isn't the answer either. My solution this time will be to get in the car and go knocking on doors. I'll get Vereeniging's bottom painted somehow!

Anyway, back to January, it's been a very cold month here in the flatlands. We've had our share of wind and storms like most people in these latitudes, but that's become the norm. What's been different this year is the extended stretches of really bitter weather and it's continuing now. This weekend, though, it's been beautifully sunny despite the cold, and walking Zoe has been a pleasure. Wrapped up warmly with boots and thick gloves, I really enjoyed our Sunday morning hike along the dyke. 

So to finish this blog, here are a few photos I took this morning. It really was a sparkling one!

A delightful collection of poultry

The local water bird sanctuary

Along the canal dyke

My favourite silos with their complementary containers

Greenhouses galore!

An abandoned farmhouse. I've gazed longingly
at it ever since we first came here, but it's 
deteriorating fast now. So sad.

A DFDS ferry passing by on the canal. Always an amazing sight

Have a great week allemaal and apologies for the moan. Next time I'll have some real news to impart...I hope!

How time flies

It hardly seems possible, but it's exactly two years ago that I opened up my computer one morning and saw the photo above on our Dutch version of ebay. Of course, I knew instantly this little dog was the one for me. I mean who could resist that wee face? Not me, especially as I'd been looking for an adult American cocker spaniel for several months and this was the first advertisement I'd seen for one. She was a year old and utterly gorgeous.

It almost didn't happen, though. Despite responding immediately, the advertiser, a lady called Jude, emailed me to say someone else had already reserved little Zoe, but she left me with the promise that if things didn't work out, she'd contact me. A few anxious days later, Jude sent me a message asking if I still wanted her. The other people had backed out for some reason and Zoe still needed a home. Well, there was no question and no hesitation this time, so on February the 1st, 2023, Koos and I set off to collect her. 

The rest has been well documented here on this blog, as I'm sure those who come here regularly will know – I can see the eye rolls and weary smiles from here :). We are now, unbelievably two years down the line with Zoe a fully settled 3-year-old resident of our parish and one small bundle of gorgeous, sweet fluff.

The photos below are early ones taken during her first month with us. She was quite thin, and although you can't see them, she had bald patches on her neck, legs and her bottom too. She also had an ulcer in one eye. She's still troubled by allergies that make her scratch terribly, but the bald patches have gone, her eye has healed and she is much, I repeat much, hairier than she was. 

After being spayed, her coat became very thick and curly. I must say I quite regret the loss of her lovely, smooth, silky hair, but it was very thin and she's so much healthier now.

The first day and everything was new. You can see the
questioning look in her eyes

Exhaustion after the long drive back

Visiting her next door auntie

The first days after being spayed.  She still
has one of her smart onesies, but this one
did not survive the puppy next door

Since then, Zoe has grown in confidence and has experienced all sorts of new adventures. Her favourite place is the local woods where she can dash about, leaping over twigs and branches, with her pal Lucy. She also loves being on board Vereeniging and had a wonderful time this last summer when we went faring with her for the first time. She's been to France by road and Belgium by boat, as well as numerous other places in between.

We've had a few health dramas with abscesses in her throat (this may be related to her allergies), and there's always medication needed for ear infections and those same allergies. She's had one of those sharp grass heads stuck in her paw, which had to be removed, and we go through spells when I always seem to be at the vet. Then, there's the grooming, which needs to be done frequently, if not often (sorry), and which she predictably hates. Never cooperative, she sulks after every trimming session, so it's an ongoing challenge. But would I change a bit of it? No.

When she's snuggled up next to us; when she's prancing about along the back of the sofa like a cat; when she's doing her howling wolf impressions, she makes us love her and laugh at her in equal measure.  
 

Zoe is a character with a capital C, a ray of sunshine when the days are dull, our common little cockney spaniel and we wouldn't be without her for a moment. These last photos are some of the more recent ones (which I may well have posted already) as well as a drawing I did of her a couple of weeks ago. 

Next week, I'll do a post about the various things that have happened this month, so if dogs are not your thing, allemaal, be reassured I'll be back with the normal items on the menu soon. It was just that I couldn't let this two-year anniversary pass without a post. Koos and I may not have grandchildren, but we have our very own, very special grandpup 😊

Winter: the relativity of being cold

I don't think it's any secret to followers of this blog that I'm not a winter fan. The cold, dark days in these northern climes are an annual challenge and it's the time of year when I miss South Africa the most.

Winter on the Highveld (the area where Johannesburg and Pretoria are located) was as good as it could be for me. Although the nights were often very cold when I lived there, the daytime temperatures were usually between 17 and 22 degrees Centigrade. I loved being able to walk in warm winter sunshine with only a jersey or light jacket on. Rain was a rare event, if at all, and the length of the day wasn't as different from the summer as it is here. With dawn arriving before sunrise and dusk falling after sunset, the amount of daylight meant I always went to work and came home in the light, which made a huge difference to how I felt about the day, especially when the skies were so clear. 

The only downside was the intensely dry air, which made the grass crackle and our skin like parchment.  We would habitually get electric sparks from brushing our hair or touching metal surfaces, and even from each other. It gave the concept of 'feeling a spark' with someone a new and literal meaning.

Things may have changed in recent years with weather becoming more intense everywhere, but South African winters suited me well, and, of course, during our winter, it's summer there so I've been looking enviously at their wonderfully warm summer temperatures: rarely too hot (this week in the mid to upper 20s), rain in the afternoons, and then repeat. So yes, I miss my old home very much, weather wise. 

Typical Highveld scenery in the winter

Naturally, I don't miss the crime aspect of living in the country's 'baddest' city. Although I was used to it and learned to live with it at the time (and indeed, in the early 90s it was at its worst ever recorded according to Wikipedia), I would probably be more nervous these days given that I've been living in the relative safety of the Netherlands for so long. But it's all academic now. The prospect of my spending more than a couple of weeks in South Africa is unlikely, and a holiday is about the most I could hope for.

But what's this all about? I'm sure you're wondering why I'm reminiscing with more than a bit of nostalgia about Johannesburg. Well, that holiday is one of my aims this year and I'm shopping around to look for affordable flights in the autumn. Since the pandemic, the cost of flights has risen dramatically so I've started my search already in the hopes I can find a way of getting there.

As for the winter here, I am aware we've been lucky so far. The photos and posts I've been seeing from friends and family in the UK and the US tell me we've been favoured. Even though it's been extremely cold here over the last week, we've had no snow other than one morning last week when Koos and I went to Rotterdam to meet our friend, Stephen Powell, who lives in Portugal. He had to come here for a meeting and we were thrilled to be able to get together with him in the Oude Haven, where we had coffee, then lunch, followed by a walk around the harbour. Sadly, it was a bit too cold to do more, but it really was great to see him again. 

I regret now that we didn't take any photos of our get-together, but I still have one from the last time we met Stephen in Huelva, Andalucia, back in January, 2023. 

Meeting Stephen in Huelva, Jan 2023

Now I come to think of it, we always seem to meet up in January: the first time we met him was in January 2020 at a bus stop in Estoi, north of Faro. We've corresponded and remained in contact ever since. I hope I'm not talking out of turn by saying Stephen is a wonderful travel writer. As a former Reuters' journalist, his books about his journeys through the Caucasus and Portugal are fascinating, as he digs into stories with a skill and depth most of us don't have. I'm very much looking forward to his next book about a recent three-month trip to Mozambique although I'll have to be patient for a while yet as it's still a work-in-progress. Here's a link to his two published books on Amazon if you're interested:  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Stephen-Powell/author/B081B4JRB5

But going back to the snow the morning we went, the fall was quite heavy but fortunately short-lived or we might have been stuck. Even so, we had to take a slow and careful drive to the bus station where we could hand over responsibility for our safety to the professionals on our journey to Rotterdam. 

I should say that I do appreciate cold is relative and how we experience it is different for everyone. I've hated it since I was a child in London, and the winter of 1962 is imprinted on my memory as the time when I first registered how miserable it made me. If I were a Canadian, I'd probably consider what we have here to be very mild. In fact, for most Dutch people it seems to be perfectly normal too. Just the other day, I was walking Zoe when I saw a neighbour in his garden wearing shorts. It was -2C. I was wrapped up in thick coat, scarf, beanie and gloves, with snow boots on my feet. Even Zoe had her jersey on. There's no accounting, is there? He is obviously made of sterner stuff.

Here's a photo I took a few days ago when it was bitter but beautiful. The blue skies and sunshine with sub zero temperatures are infinitely preferable to today's grey mist and damp. That particular day reminded me very much of a Jo'burg winter morning. Right now, though? With a blanket on my knees, two jerseys and a dog by my side, I'm looking forward to spring. Not too long to go now...

Have a good weekend, allemaal, and I'll be back with more news soon.

PS As a footnote, I just want to say my thoughts and prayers are with the people of Los Angeles and its environs who have lost their homes and everything they own. I cannot imagine what they must be going through.

New Year and the first January storm

In the Netherlands, it's acceptable to say 'Beste Wensen' (Best Wishes) to greet someone you haven't seen since December up until January the 6th, but many people I encounter continue doing so when they see you for the first time in the new year. So, as I haven't been here since the end of last year, I feel entitled to say Beste Wensen to everyone reading this blog. Two days late, I know, but I hope you'll forgive me.

It's been a very busy first week of the year, I must admit. The first day of January was pretty miserable so we stayed put at home, but we always like to go to the coast as soon as possible. It's become something of a tradition and even though the 2nd was very cold, it was bright enough to warrant getting in the car and heading for the estuary.

We didn't spend all too long marching along the sea dyke; it really was bitter with a northerly wind blowing, but the sky was lovely. I particularly like this photo I took of the land from the dyke. The trees always remind me of guards, standing to attention. 

Out to sea, the sky was quite dramatic with the clouds racing over. We somehow ended up in the wrong place and not the beach where the dogs like to run, but I like what they call 'verdronken land' (literally, drowned land) too. During high tide, much of the growth is covered or infiltrated by the the seawater. We were there when the tide was out, and the verdronken parts looks quite densely covered and firm. However, I wouldn't risk walking on it. At best it would be very squishy and I don't even like to think of what the worst case might be.

That small golden blob in the photo below is Zoe, who thoroughly enjoyed scampering along the dyke. There are often sheep  there, so the smells were heaven to a small dog of extremely olfactory tendencies.

The following days were spent catching up with chores and taking down all the decorations. We'd had a lovely Christmas and a quiet New Year, but since we were doing some sorting out and de-cluttering, we thought we'd declutter the tree and the lights as well and put them away for next year. The only reminder left is the lovely collection of cards, which I'll keep for a while.

By this last weekend, the wind was picking up in preparation for our first 'hoolie' of the year. I don't know if it warranted a name but by Monday, it was gusting very hard and my poor daughter lost the cladding off the side of her vestibule. It was just ripped off by the wind, so yesterday, we tacked some tarpaulin over the gaping hole to protect it from rain until she can get some wooden planking to replace the plastic 'tongue and groove' that had come off.

That said, we had another lovely walk with a spectacular sky.

And our canal was pretty impressive as well. In the photo below, you can see the waves and whitecaps on the water, just as if it was a fast-running river. I don't think I've ever seen it so rough. Luckily, my Vereeniging and the Hennie H weren't affected. It's such a relief to have them close by, even when we're not on board. Unfortunately, Vereeniging's mooring situation makes it too difficult and too dangerous to get on board, when there's a big storm so we have to be sensible and not take risks. At least we can check on both boats easily, though.

Lastly, I'm not one for making NY resolutions. That's asking for trouble as I can rarely keep them, but I have resumed writing the sequel to my novel, The Skipper's Child, and I hope I can manage to finish it before the summer. I've also decided to do some drawing and aim to do just a small sketch every day, if I can. How long I can keep it up I don't know, because next week I start giving an eight-week course for twenty students, which will involve a lot of feedback and marking, but I'll do my best. There's also my daily Duo Lingo to do, as well as the inevitable list of DIY projects I need and want to complete. I must write a list, though, as otherwise I'll forget the lot and end up doing other things entirely!

One thing I definitely resolve to do, though, is keep up with my blog!

So, at the very least 2025 isn't going to be boring, is it? What are you all planning? I'd love to hear your aims or dreams for the year, allemaal. 

Here's a photo of Zoe just to finish off with, for Rebecca of course!