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Home-Made Poetry
Poetry Corner April 2012
This Month’s Film Review - April 2012
Barefoot Books
Poetry Corner March 2012
News From La Souterraine English Library & Information Centre
Greetings from Limousin Writers’ Group
New Year, New Hobby?
Yves Désautard, King of Banturles in St Sulpice les Feuilles on Feb 5th
Poetry Corner February 2012
Shifting Civilization by Jim Archibald
HOW DO YOU KNOW WHEN YOU ARE GROWING OLD?
(for older stories, please see this page)
Home-Made Poetry
from Jim Archibald
Today I'm giving you home-made poetry, because there are days when I'm simply at the mercy of my Muse! She lives on the left side of my brain. Her name is Terpsichore; the muse of the dance; which explains why I don't have a bestseller yet! Being a woman, she has no use for my rules. She largely ignores me. When she does speak it's in a whisper I can barely hear. Except when I ignore her, and then she roars like a bull. Like this morning at 5am! She doesn't have a watch, but then she's a Muse so "Why the hell does she need one?" she asks.
Anyhow, she gave me this in a single rush, like she was dying to get it off her chest. By the time my Percolator was bubbling she had skipped back to whatever celestial or Arcadian hideout she shares with her eight companions. If I sound unappreciative it is only a writer's artifice. For as any Writer, poet, dancer or painter will tell you, we all need a muse. No, not Emus, that's Roy Hull!
Rainbows
I try to imagine a life without colour;
Where all of perspective is hodden and grey.
And all of us merge in the dullness of background.
Where all definition is rubbered away.
Where nothing is verdant, or shimmers with lustre.
Where pink isn't blushing, or flushing, or fresh.
Where red isn't carmine, and blue isn't eggshell;
And yellow is pastel, not spice Marrakesh.
Where tint is but shade, and where hue is but shadow;
Where prisms are prisons of colour and light.
Where dawn soaks its edges in puddles of darkness;
And sunflowers are blossoms of inky black night.
If blue eyes don't sparkle, what need we of colour?
If heat doesn't shimmer, what need we of light?
If all of our vision is painted in greyscale;
Without a full spectrum, what need we of sight
Poetry Corner April 2012
Philip Larkin (1922 – 1985)
Philip Larkin remains one of Britain’s most popular poets, in 2003 he was chosen as ‘the nation’s best-loved poet’, in 2008 ‘The Times’ named Larkin as the greatest British post-war writer, even though he is often described as the ‘hermit of Hull’ full of pessimism and gloom.
We also now know the worst and the best of his personal life after the publication of some of his letters but Larkin was someone who had profound things to say about common place experiences and we can all relate to his discontent in this poem.
GOING, GOING
by Philip Larkin. (January 1972)
I thought it would last my time -
The sense that, beyond the town,
There would always be fields and farms,
Where the village louts could climb
Such trees as were not cut down;
I knew there'd be false alarms
In the papers about old streets
And split level shopping, but some
Have always been left so far;
And when the old part retreats
As the bleak high-risers come
We can always escape in the car.
Things are tougher than we are, just
As earth will always respond
However we mess it about;
Chuck filth in the sea, if you must:
The tides will be clean beyond.
But what do I feel now? Doubt?
Or age, simply? The crowd
Is young in the M1 cafe;
Their kids are screaming for more -
More houses, more parking allowed,
More caravan sites, more pay.
On the Business Page, a score
Of spectacled grins approve
Some takeover bid that entails
Five per cent profit (and ten
Per cent more in the estuaries): move
Your works to the unspoilt dales
(Grey area grants)! And when
You try to get near the sea
In summer . . .
It seems, just now,
To be happening so very fast;
Despite all the land left free
For the first time I feel somehow
That it isn't going to last,
That before I snuff it, the whole
Boiling will be bricked in
Except for the tourist parts -
First slum of Europe: a role
It won't be hard to win,
With a cast of crooks and tarts.
And that will be England gone,
The shadows, the meadows, the lanes,
The guildhalls, the carved choirs.
There'll be books; it will linger on
In galleries; but all that remains
For us will be concrete and tyres.
Most things are never meant.
This won't be, most likely; but greeds
And garbage are too thick-strewn
To be swept up now, or invent
Excuses that make them all needs.
I just think it will happen, soon.
This Month’s Film Review - April 2012
From Helen Atkinson
Clever, intelligent, beautiful, original, its easy to run out of adjectives when describing "The Artist", latest Oscar winner and film of the moment.
Because of all the hype we went to see it recently with a certain amount of scepticism and uncertainty. Would it live up to its expectation?
That and More.
All the above adjectives are true- I would urge anyone to go and see this wonderful film.
The story itself is a very simple one, beautifully told. George Valentin is a matinee idol of the silent screen a Rudolf Valentino. Rich, successful, he's mobbed wherever he goes. A chance encounter with a pretty, talented young woman 'Peppy' leads to newspaper headlines for her and helps her blag her way into the set of his latest movie, as a bit part actress and hoofer.
They form a fond attachment for each other which remains chaste and deep. As the years roll by his star wanes as the talkies arrive, while Peppy goes from strength to strength. As he ploughs his time and money into unsuccessful film projects her career takes off until eventually she has what he once had, money, fame and the world at her feet. From afar she watches George's decline, with a loving and tender discretion.
Bankrupt and with his sterile marriage in ruins it's just a question of how much further can he fall.
With his little dog for company he ends up living in a dingy apartment, where after a drunken bout of despair and self pity he accidentally sets fire to the place and is rescued by his faithful pet and the ever vigilant Peppy.
What happens next would be a shame to give away as it spoils the plot for all would be viewers, but safe to say it leads to an emotional ending that would and did blur the eye of anyone with a heart.
The acting of this magnificent film is a real ensemble piece, outstanding performances from the French leads, but all the secondary characters finding the right tone and depth that makes lack of dialogue a bonus. There are lighter moments of comic genius that stops the story sinking into melodrama.
Although a 'silent movie' the sound track complements the script and the artistic direction is faultless.
A big billing, a lot to live up to? The Artist delivers and I can't conclude without a special mention for "uggie" the dog, some say the star of the show.
At the end of our screening the cinema audience burst into spontaneous applause.
A classic film, probably best seen in the cinema rather than DVD, but preferably with little coils of cigarette smoke drifting up into the darkness.
Barefoot Books
"Children are made readers on the laps of their parents."
— Emilie Buchwald
Firstly let me introduce myself, my name is Nicole, a mum of five and I am passionate about inspiring children to develop a love for learning which, I believe starts from birth and the need to give our children the opportunity to learn, dream and imagine starts with a book.
The more you read to children, the wider their vocabulary becomes, the stronger their visualisations and the more “open” and receptive they are, to absorb the details and situations contained within the book. According to the World Literacy Foundation and the National Literacy Trust thousands of kids are leaving school without adequate reading skills. One in three children, between the age of 7 and 16 years old, does not own a book and over six million adults in Britain cannot read properly.
In my search for great books to inspire my own children, I came across Barefoot Books.
At Barefoot Books we believe that books should engage the child right from the start, we offer award-winning multi-cultural storybooks, celebrating art & story and opening the hearts and minds of children from all walks of life, inspiring them to read deeper, search further, and explore their own creative gifts.
Barefoot Books began with two mothers who wanted their children to have books that would feed the imagination, while instilling a respect for diversity and a love of the planet. Today, we are a world-wide community of writers, artists, storytellers, musicians, and others who are committed to providing timeless stories and captivating art that can help children become happy, engaged members of a global society.
Everyone can get involved in Children’s reading!
My children, our family and our friends have all enjoyed the many books available and now I work with local parents, schools & nurseries promoting Literacy in English & offering Barefoot Books to purchase here in France.
I became an Ambassador for Barefoot Books in France last year, although I bought my first book' The Barefoot Book of Faeries' in 1999 when my daughter Lara was only three years old and it has remained a treasured possession of hers to this day. My eight year old twins are now enthralled and enchanted with the beautiful stories Barefoot Books have to offer. My next challenge is to gather a team of Ambassadors across France, who have a love of books, want to meet new people and run their own small home business, like myself, which is very flexible and fits perfectly around my family commitments. If Living Barefoot is something which may be of interest to you, you can find out more by visiting; http://www.barefootbooks.com/marketplace/33108
The full Barefoot Books range are available for delivery throughout France, UK & Europe. If you are interested in ordering for delivery within France contact me to find out how you can benefit from reduced postage costs at Barefootbooks.france@gmail.com
Everyone I meet always tells me how nice it is to be able to purchase such high quality books, at such reasonable prices - Barefoot Books, a gift to last a lifetime…
Nicole Bekdache
Ambassador for Barefoot Books in France
Poetry Corner March 2012
The wild daffodil or narcissus is one of the flowers most associated with March, it is named after Narcissus in Greek mythology. He was a very handsome youth, but wholly inaccessible to the feeling of love. The nymph Echo, who loved him, but in vain, died away with grief. One of his rejected lovers, however, prayed to Nemesis to punish him for his unfeeling heart. Nemesis accordingly caused Narcissus to see his own face reflected in a well, and to fall in love with his own image. As this shadow was unapproachable Narcissus gradually perished with love, and his corpse was metamorphosed into the flower called after him narcissus. This beautiful story is related at length by Ovid and gave birth to the word narcissism – a tendency to self-worship.
Narciccus is also known as Lent Lily because it blooms in early spring and the blooms usually drop before Easter.
The daffodil became a popular Welsh symbol in the 19th Century when Lloyd George used it to symbolise Wales at the 1911 Investiture and in official publications.
In England the daffodil inspired amongst others William Wordsworth to write his famous poem Daffodils, and here it is, perhaps a reminder of what is to come -
Daffodils
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
News From La Souterraine English Library & Information Centre
Singles group
The Singles group continues to grow – the next meeting is 2.30 on Wednesday 7th March.
Storytime
We held our first Storytime in a snowstorm, but the one parent and child who came enjoyed it very much. The next Storytime will be on Wednesday 14th March at 10am. Storytime enables parents of young children to meet together and share experiences, while the children will take part in book related activities such as story-telling.
LADIES GET FIT FRIDAYS
The first Keep fit Group have met although some sessions have been affected by the weather. The group meets at 2.15pm on Fridays and each session is 5 euros.
If you want to know more please telephone Alison on 0555 76 79 07 or email her at: alisonwade.france@gmail.com
French lessons
French lessons continue this year on Monday and Friday mornings, Sophie has some vacancies, so why not make your resolution this year to finally master French. Sophie can be contacted on 05 55 89 15 74 or scarolinea@yahoo.fr
Apprendre L’Anglais?
Vous voulez apprendre l’anglais ? En 2012 à La Bibliothèque Anglaise La Souterraine propose des cours en Anglais. Jeudi Matin 10€ l’heure. Boisson comprise.
Notre professeur est Mme Jeannette Steele, une professeur experte en anglais. Tel Jeannette sur 02 54 24 86 35 pour information et renseignements.
Drama Group
The first meeting of the Drama Group will be on Tuesday 20th March at 7.30 in the Library. We are looking for actors, stage managers, lighting experts – please let us know on stjeanbiblio@yahoo.com if you are coming.
TV
We have been approached by A TV documentary company who are producing a documentary for ITV about expats in France, Spain and Florida. This is a reputable company with a good pedigree. They are interested in people who have ongoing projects and businesses (not renovation projects). Contact Rodney for more information if you are interested in taking part.
Gardening
Contact the library for details of the Gardening Group’s next meeting …
Rodney Sabine
Janet McGenn
Greetings from Limousin Writers’ Group
I would like to bring your readers’ attention to our group of writers and to entice anyone interested to make contact. Our group started a year ago and we meet once a month, alternating between LaSouterraine in Creuse and in Lagrauliere in Correze.
Rodney Sabine at the English Library in La Souterraine will tell you all about the group. He is a member himself and we meet at the library which many of you probably already know. In Correze we meet now at the Chateau Bellefond Lagrauliere where some of the group has also started a library with books donated from La Souterraine. This is in the lovely home of another of our members – Janie Busch.
We share cars to both these venues and we also have lunch together, making for an enjoyable and creative time. We write, read, discuss and gather inspiration from the other members. It isn’t always easy as a writer or a ‘wannabe’ writer to be able to feel confident to share work. In our group we always try to be friendly and supportive.
It may be that you enjoy writing as a hobby and wish to do more; or it may be that you are already successful in some way and wish to share your success and ideas with us. Either way please get in touch. We would love to have you part of our group.
We have just finished following a creative writing course and intend to start a ‘Writing for Publication’ course, which will help you to get your work published in magazines and specialist journals.
Please contact me for further information.
Sue Crampton (gironagrapevine2004@yahoo.co.uk)
New Year, New Hobby?
Making music with the departemental conservatoire de la creuse
Have you or your child/children ever thought about learning an instrument/taking singing lessons from scratch or perhaps picking up an instrument/singing again after a long break without playing it? Perhaps you/they do play/sing but have wondered about getting a few helpful hints/lessons and are not sure how to go about finding a teacher? Well, the Departemental Conservatoire of Music may be the answer to all your musical needs.
Back in October I spoke on RPG radio with Julia (Dunbar) about the various musical activities which are on offer to one and all under the auspices of the Departmental Conservatoire of Creuse and wondered if it might be an idea to put things in writing for the benefit of those who didn’t hear the original programme.
Basically, in France children may do ‘class music’ at school but instrumental or individual singing lessons are usually taken at the local conservatoire (music school) of the town. In Creuse it’s the equivalent of a County Music service for those of you who are familiar with how the provision of music works in dear old Blighty! The Creuse being a small department has its’ main base in Guéret with several outposts or antennes and annexes in other towns. For a rural departement this is very helpful as it means people don’t have to travel long distances to get to their music lesson. For example there are ‘Antennes’ in Aubusson, Bourganeuf, Auzances, Boussac and La Souterraine and ‘Annexes’ in Felletin (where I go), Faux La Montagne, Mérinchal, Bonnat, Dun Le Palestel and Le Grand Bourg. I don’t know what the difference is between an Antenne and an Annexe but I do know the system works!
When I spoke to Mr Hieronymus (Director of Music) last October he was keen to point out that in his opinion music was for everyone as I had remarked that I was surprised to see so many adults learners with the conservatoire and he was quite proud of that fact because it is certainly not the case in other departements/regions where I believe it can be almost impossible for adults to join/sign up for music lessons with the local conservatoire.
You can have lessons in all kinds of instruments e.g orchestral instruments i.e.strings, woodwind, brass, percussion; piano, accordion, organ and electric/bass guitar as well as various types of music – ‘classical’, folk, jazz, pop/rock, not forgetting voice and theatre (drama) lessons. This list is not exhaustive, simply what I can think of at the moment - I’m sure to have missed out some instruments.
It is not necessary to be able to read music or have any previous experience as they have 45 teaching staff able to teach you whatever your level/instrument/voice. In fact, having paid your fees which in my humble opinion are more than reasonable e.g there are 34 teaching weeks in the academic year (the conservatoire works the same weeks as the school system) and for a school-age child it will cost a maximum of 254 euros for their first instrument/voice. For an adult it will cost between 250-409 euros depending upon whether your commune has adhered (financially contributed, I believe) to the the conservatoire. If you or your child wants to learn a second instrument it will cost just 22 euros extra for a whole year’s lessons. In my books that is incredibly good value for money. Added to that, weekly lessons in solfège (reading music à la Do, Re Mi etc) are available at no extra cost as is the chance to start playing in one of the 3 orchestras at the conservatoire (A,B or C orchestras depending on ability and anyone can play in the orchestras no matter their ability), also free of charge. Not forgetting the chance to play with others in small ensembles (groups) depending upon your instrument. Lastly, still on a financial note (G sharp, I believe) it is often possible to start lessons partway through the school year, i.e. in January and later depending on whether a teacher has teaching slots available in your instrument (just ring the conservatoire or visit to find out or contact me for further information) and of course the fees are reduced pro-rata if you start lessons later in the year.
I’ve been taking music lessons through the conservatoire for 3 years and I have found the teachers to be dedicated professionals who are very understanding when it comes to adult learners as well as very good with child learners. Perhaps one of the main points as far M. Hieronymus is concerned in learning an instrument/singing is the opportunity to make music together – to join with others to make hopefully a ‘joyful noise’. The social aspect of music-making is an important outcome for many. In fact, this year through playing in the orchestra I’ve already got together with people for little soirées in someone’s house where we rehearse, most recently Christmas carols and stuff and then have a meal together. I can’t really think why everyone doesn’t grab this chance to learn and make new friends! If you would like a little more info. and don’t feel brave enough to contact the Conservatoire direct feel free to contact me, Remi, on 05 55 51 97 43. The Conservatoire is next to the Kyriad Hotel at the bottom of Guéret and has its’ own car park and opposite the Campanile Hotel. Hope to see you around the corridors/rehearsal room sometime soon.
Yves Désautard, King of Banturles in St Sulpice les Feuilles on Feb 5th
Banturle is a typical Limousin idiom that refers to a person who enjoys life, who is easily distracted from his work and likes to go for a drink with friends and to discuss how to change the world, philosophising about the harsh condition of Man and producing profound maxims (Cows rushing to the water trough are as dangerous as closing time at the pub.)
Yves Desautard has been King of Banturles since 1982, an incredible thirty-year reign Amongst his multiple activities, Yves is known by his regular broadcasts on France Bleu Limousin. He is the official entertainer of the exclusive club of the communes with funny names (Arnac la Poste = Rob the Post, Vatan = get lost, Folles = Crazy women, Rancon = Makes one stupid ..) He perfoms on a regular basis on stage with his own plays such as "The Last Pub before the Creuse".
Yves Désautard's new play is named the "little theatre of Banturles" and brings back to life many famous people and celebrities of the Limousin, starring with his two sidekicks, Jean-François Julien (a journalist) and Christophe Dupuis (an accordion player). You will enjoy two hours of jokes, songs , and laughter - should you have some command of the French language. Cazalibus will be pleased to welcome you in St Sulpice les Feuilles ( A20 - exit 22), with a free glass of mulled wine before the show, on Sunday 5th February, 3.30 pm.
Information and Bookings €12 per person.
Bookings by phone (05 55 76 70 15), by e-mail: cazalibus@orange.fr or by post (with payment): Cazalibus - 14 place de la fontaine - 87160 Les Grands-Chézeaux.
Poetry Corner February 2012
This month’s poem is by MARGARET ATWOOD (Canadian. born 1939)
Margaret Atwood has long been one of my favourite authors; her books are regularly best sellers and she has won many literary awards including the Booker prize for her book ‘The Blind Assassin’ she is not only a novelist, an essayist but a poet too.
She has become popular with feminists although when she started writing she was apolitical but then, as novelists do, she began describing the world around her …
Her poem ‘The Moment’ appears to tell us that nothing ever permanently belongs to us, particularly nature and perhaps that life is a constant climb of discovery …
THE MOMENT
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
Shifting Civilization by Jim Archibald
These warriors of Gaul lacked only the winged helmets to help identify them. There were eight of them. They emerged from a large, grey people-carrier in the car park of Poitiers Airport. I was on my way back to Scotland for a family visit and a 90th birthday party. Being my first visit in 3 months, I was very excited. I was busily checking that my jeep was secure, when I first spotted them broiling out of the rear of their vehicle. They hauled a large tea urn out with them, which they swiftly set up on the tailgate of the Renault. Asterix, most obviously their leader, adroitly poured two quarter litre plastic cups of vin rouge. He rapidly closed the distance between us. As he reached me, he thrust a brimming cup into my left hand, grabbed my right hand, and enquired if I was Scottish. We shook hands, I answered yes, and he then asked if I was on holiday.
The wine was of great quality and quickly loosened my French tongue! In passable French, I explained that I now lived in France. We spoke of where I lived, and how much I was enjoying it.. One of his sub-kings brought two further foaming cups; as the air was filled with Gallic war-cries, and we voiced mutual distrust of the Romans and the English! Celts it seems are simply distant cousins to the Gauls of the Massif Central. Asterix, whose real name was Guy, was the leader of eight former school chums who had started to meet up again three years ago. They had talked of a trip to Scotland, and this was the culmination of three years planning.
This particular tribe of wanderers was from the Haute Vienne, just north of Limoges. Their excitement and joy was palpable. The wine was their libation to pagan gods who had seen them safely through life thus far. They also seemed capable of forming a tight, defensive circle if threatened. Their first encounter with the Ryanairians promised to be interesting. In the event, it was something of an anticlimax. Using me as a decoy, they were swiftly over the border in force!
Of course this is a parody. But it is a very close one. Two weeks ago, my wife and I visited the large hamlet of Gouzognat. It was to be a Foire de Gaulloise, and we were curious as to what that entailed. We entered a large, handsome village with a main street which climbed up and over the southern escarpment. The street was lined with brocante stalls which spilled over into side streets and even small squares and spaces. The upper village was all Gaul though.
Men in baggy, blue and white striped trousers, sported long moustaches. Their women were in bright smocks and striped dresses; with their hair plaited into two pigtails. There was also a large contingent of young, and powerful looking Roman Legionaries. We encountered a small number of Egyptians, mostly dark-haired and sun-blistered. Full figure sculptures, Funerary busts, and the odd Sphinx lay in wait around unlikely corners. It was a wonderfully surreal step back in time.
The Romans loved Gaul. The land was extremely fertile, the climate pleasant, the roads already straight as an arrow. You see, as Western Europeans we have always been brought up to believe that the Romans invented the straight road. Aux Contraire! It was just one of the myriad of things they learned from the Gauls. Yet the Gauls prospered under Roman rule. They took everything the Romans offered, adapted it to their own purpose, and became the great civilization they are today. The Egyptian sailor, whose acquaintance I made at the makeshift bar, behind the Sphinx; told me that! I don't know what pleased me more; being made welcome as just another citizen of the Roman Empire; or discovering that Gaul is still essentially unchanged through two millennia.
HOW DO YOU KNOW WHEN YOU ARE GROWING OLD?
Everything hurts – what doesn’t hurt, doesn’t work.
The gleam in your eye is the sun glinting on your bifocals.
You feel like the morning after, but haven’t been anywhere.
Your little Black Book only contains names ending with M.D.
You get winded playing cards.
Your children begin to look middle-aged.
You join a health club but don’t go.
A dripping tap causes an uncontrollable urge.
You know all the answers but nobody asks the questions.
You look forward to a dull evening.
You need glasses to find your glasses.
You turn out the light for economy, instead of romance.
You sit on a rocking chair, but can’t make it go.
Your knees buckle but your belt won’t.
Your back goes out more than you do.
You put your bra on back to front and it fits better.
Your house is too big and your medicine chest is not big enough.
You sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there.
Your birthday cake collapses under the weight of the candles.
(given to me by my 96-year-old mother! Julia)
